♦ LIBRAIY OF CONGRESS.} 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. ! 



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FOR THE 



SUNDA Y-S CH OOL 



BY 



OF ROCHESTER UNIVERSITY. 



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BOSTON: 
HENRY A. YOUNG & CO. 

NO. 24 CORNHILL. 



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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 

HENRY A. YOUNG & CO., 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



PREFACE 



There may be a question respecting the de- 
sirableness of making " declamations and dia- 
logues " a feature in the Sunday School Con- 
cert, especially in the case of the very young. 
There can be no question respecting the neces- 
sity of a suitable collection of '' declamations 
and dialogues " for those who accept Sunday 
School speaking as a foregone conclusion. 
Such a collection must be : 

1. Religious. — There are plenty of good 
secular " Speakers " already. Being religious, 
it cannot, of course, be very funny. 

2.. — Adapted to the comprehension of children. 

2>. — Characterized^ throughout^ hy good 'taste. 



IV PREFACE. 

4. — Fitted for oral delivery^ not for reading 
or singing. 

The exercises should, moreover, be brief ; 
diversified in matter and manner ; and hence 
adapted to a wide variety of speakers. 

Such a collection the publishers have under- 
taken to furnish, availing themselves (always 
with explicit recognition of the fact) of the 
best material already before the public ; and 
securing fresh contributions from thoroughly 
competent minds and hearts. 

The only suggestions which they have to 
make respecting the use of the book are:- let 

THE PIECES BE WELL COMMITTED, AND NATU- 
RALLY DELIVERED. 



CONTE NTS- 



PART I. POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

The Holy Child, 11 

*' Come Unto Me.".. 12 

Softly, Softly, Little Child, 12 

Little Servants, 13 

Willie and the Birds, U 

A Child's Prayer, 16 

God Loves Me, 16 

Love to Jesus, 17 

Our Saviour, 18 

God our Father, 19 

The Little Angel, 20 

Baby Teachings, 21 

Is it You, 22 

The Robin-Redbreasts 23 

Good Mommg, 24 

Little Mary's New Tear Wish, 26 

The World, 27 

Little Things, 28 

Deeds of Kindness, 29 

Little Things, 31 

The Best that I Can, 32 

What the Sparrow Chirps, 34 

Mr. Nobody, ^ 36 

Suppose, 37 



VI CONTENTS. 

If I were a Sunbeam, 39 

Morning Glory, 40 

Sundown 41 

Evening Hymn, 41 

Good Night, 42 

Little Willie and the Apple, , . 43 

The Child' s Prayer, 44 

i^.Iayn't I be a Boy, 46 

Give, 48 

Buttercups and Daisies, 49 

The Book of Nature, . 50 

Flowers, 51 

The Worship of Nature, 52 

The Little Child and the Robins, 54 

The Captain's Daughter, 55 

Measuring the Baby, 57 

The Apple-Tree, 59 

Mabel's Wonder, 60 

The Birds, 62 

Maggie Reading her Testament, 65 

The Lighthouse, , 68 

Life's Work, 71 

A walk in a Churchyard, 73 

At Nightfall, ". 75 

Heirship, 77 

Who Bids for the Children, 78 

The Christian and his Echo, 80 

The Children's Prayer, '. 82 

The First Snow-Fail 84 

The Burial of Moses 86 

The Vaudois Teacher, .90 

I want to join the Ransomed, 92 

Golden Hair, • 93 

Little Bessie, 95 

Lost Margery, 97 

The Open Door, 98 

The Little Orphan, 100 

One Step More, , 102 

The Robin 103 



CONTENTS. Vll 

The Loud Call, 105 

Wanted a Minister, 108 

Katie's Treasures, 113 

Christmas Hymn, 115 

Christ and the Little Ones, 116 

The Heart's Song, 119 

Jesus of Nazareth Passeth by, 120 

Cowper*s Grave, 12 1 

Gone, 124 

Resignation, 125 

Over the River, 128 

PART II. DECLMIATIONS. 

An Opening Address for a Sunday School Exhibition, 133 

A Closing Address for a Sunday School Exhibition, 134 

An Appeal for Beneficence, 135 

Where Does all the Money go to, 136 

An Appeal for Sjnnpathy, 137 

A Call for Volunteers 139 

I am a Little Girl you see 140 

I am a Happy Little Boy, 141 

Address of Welcome to a New Pastor 142 

Address of Welcome to a New Superintendent, 144 

Address of Welcome After Absence, 145 

Address of Welcome after Illness, 146 

Address of Welcome to Visiting Sunday Schools, 147 

On the Death of a Teacher, 149 

Presentation of a Vase of Roses, 151 

A Presentation Address to a Pastor, 152 

A Presentation Address to a Superintendent, 153 

A Presentation Address to a Teacher, 154 

There is a Teetotalers, * -. . 155 

Take up the Collection, 157 

PART III. DIALOGUES. 

The Stray Lamb, 161 

How to Lead a Child to God, 164 

Temptation Resisted, •••••• 168 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

The Book of Thanks, 174 

On Exaggeration, 176 

Big and Little, 181 

The Art of Lying; or " Bargains," 186 

Youthful Advocates of Temperance, 191 

*'Honor thy Father and Mother," 195 

Tintypes, 198 

Little Things, 206 

Why Have You Left the Sabbath School? 210 

The New Minister, or What our Folks Say, 214 

Every-Day Religion, 218 

Horse Sheds, 222 

The Lost Porte-monaie, 225 

Little Things, 228 

The Annual Report, 230 

The Prize Banner, 233 

Too Much Given, 236 

The Significance of Christmas, 240 

The Force of Example, 242 

No Gentleman, unless a Christian, , 244 

Shall We Have a Library,,..,,., 248 



PART I. 



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kk&ns. 



THE HOLY CHILD. 

By cool Siloam's shady rill 

How fair the lily grows ! 
How sweet the breath, beneath the hill, 

Of Sharon's dewy rose ! 

Lo, such the child whose early feet 
The paths of peace have trod ; 

Whose secret heart, with influence sweet, 
Is upward drawn to God ! 

Thou, who giy'st us life and breath, 

We seek thy grace alone, 
In childhood, manhood, age, and death, 

To keep us still thine own ! 

Hebeb. 



12 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



"COME UNTO ME." 

As children once to Christ were brought, 
That he might bless them there. 

So now we little children ought 
To seek the Lord by prayer. 

And as so many years ago 

Poor babes his pity drew, 
I'm sure he will not let me go 

Without a blessing too. 

Then while, this favor to implore. 

My little hands are spread, 
Do thou thy sacred blessing pour. 

Dear Jesus, on my head. 

Hymns FOR Infant Minds. 



SOFTLY, SOFTLY, LITTLE CHILD. 

Softly, softly, little child ; 

Do not wear that angry brow ; 
Do not speak that naughty word ; 

Angel steps are near thee now. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 13 

Softly, softly, little child ; 

Drive thy passions far away, 
And thy angel visitants 

Close will fold their wings and stay. 

Softly, softly, little child ; 

Drop the penitential tear ; 
Angels catch it ere it falls — 

Bear it up to heaven from here. 

Softly, softly, little child, 

Are the songs of angels blent : 
Joyous are the strains above 

O'er the cliild that doth repent. 

Julie Leonard. 



LITTLE SERVANTS. 

Oh, what can little hands do 

To please the King of heaven ? 
The little hands some work may try 
To help the poor in misery ; — 
Such grace to mine be given. 

Oh, what can little lips do 

To please the King of heaven ? 



14 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

The little lips can praise and pray, 
And gentle words of kindness say : — 
Such grace to mine be given. 

Oh, what can little eyes do 

To please the King of heaven ? 
The little eyes can upward look, 
Can learn to read God's holy book ; — 
Such grace to mine be given. 

Oh, what can little hearts do 

To please the King of heaven ? 
The hearts, if God his Spirit send, 
Can love and trust the children's Friend ;- 
Such grace to mine be given. 

Wlien hearts, eyes, lips and hands unite 

To please the King of heaven, 
And serve the Saviour with delight, 
They are most precious in his sight ; — 
Such grace to mine be given. 

Tract Journal. 



WILLIE AND THE BIRDS. 

A little black-eyed boy of five 
Thus spake to his mamma : 
" Do look at all the pretty birds ; 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 15 

How beautiful they are ! 
How smooth and glossy are their wings ; 

How beautiful their hue ; 
Besides, mamma, I really think 

That they are pious^ too ! " 

" Why so, my dear ? " the mother said, 

And scarce suppressed a smile ; 
The answer showed a thoughtful head, 

A heart quite free from guile : 
" Because, when each one bows his head, 

His tiny bill to wet, 
To lift a thankful glance above 

He never does forget : 
And so, mamma, it seems to me 

That very pious they must be." 

Dear child, I would a lesson learn 
From this sweet thought of thine, 

And heavenward, with a glad heart, turn 
These earth-bound eyes of mine ; 

Perfected praise indeed is given. 
By babes below, to God in heaven. 

Anon. 



16 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



A CHILD'S PRAYER. 

Lord, teach a little child to pray. 
And oh ! accept my prayer ; 

Thou canst hear all the words I say, 
For thou art everywhere. 

A little sparrow cannot fall 

Unnoticed, Lord, by thee ; 
And though I am so young and small, - 

Thou dost take care of me. 

Teach me to do whate'er is right, 

And when I sin, forgive ; 
And make it still my chief delight 

To serve thee while I live. 

Anon. 



GOD LOVES MB. 

God cares for every little child 
That on this great earth liveth ; 

He gives them homes and food and clothes ; 
And more than these God giveth ; — 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 17 

He gives them all their loving friends ; 

He gives each child its mother ; 
He gives them all the happiness 

Of loving one another. 

He makes the earth all beautiful ; 

He gives us eyes to see ; 
And touch and hearing, taste and smell. 

He gives them all to me. 

And, better still, he gives his word. 
Which tells how God's dear son 

Gathered the children in his arms 
And loves them — every one. 

What can a little child give God ? 

Prom his bright heavens above 
The great God smiles, and reaches down 

To take his children's love. 

Edited. 



LOVE TO JESUS. 

When Jesus Christ was here below, 
And spread his works of love abroad, 
If I had lived so long ago, 
I think I should have loved the Lord. 



18 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Jesus, who was so very kind, 

Who came to pardon sinful men. 

Who healed the sick, and cured the blind — 

0, must I not have loved him then ? 

But where is Jesus ? — is he dead ? 

no ! he lives in heaven above ; 
''And blest are they," the Saviour said, 
" Who, though they have not seen me, love." 

Jane Taylor. 



OUR SAVIOUR. 

Dear Saviour ! ever at my side, 

How loving must thou be 
To leave thy home in Heaven to guard 

A little child like me ! 

Thy beautiful and shining face 

I see not, though so near ; 
The sweetness of thy soft, low voice 

I am too deaf to hear. 

I cannot feel thee touch my hand 
With pressure light and mild, 

To check me, as my mother did 
When I was but a child. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 19 

But I have felt thee in my thoughts, 

Fighting with sin for me ; 
And when my heart loves God, I know 

The sweetness is from thee. 

And when, dear Saviour, I kneel down 
Morning and night to prayer, 

Something there is within my heart 
Which tells me thou art there. 

Yes ! when I pray, thou prayest too — 

Thy prayer is all for me ; 
And when I sleep, thou sleepest not. 

But watchest patiently. 

F. W. Faber. 



GOD OUR FATHER. 

We are not orphans on the earth, 
Though friends and parents die ; 

One Parent never bows to death, — 
One Friend is ever nigh. 

Even he who lit the stars of old, 
And filled the ocean broad. 

Whose works and ways are manifold, ■ 
Our father is our God. 



20 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

There comes no change upon his years, 

No failure to his hand ; 
His love will lighten all our cares, 

His law our steps command. 

May Christ who for our sakes the gloom 

Of death's dark valley trod. 
Bring us all safe at last to him, — 

Our Father and our God ! 

Sunday-school Hymns. 



THE LITTLE ANGEL. 

Right into our house one day, 

A dear little angel came ; 
I ran to him, and said softly, 
" Little angel, what is your name ? " 

He said not a word in answer. 

But smiled a beautiful smile. 
Then I said : " May I go home with you ? 

Shall you go in a little while ? " 

But mamma said : " Dear little angel, 
Don't leave us ! 0, always stay ! 

We will all of us love you dearly ! 
Sweet angel ! 0, don't go away ! " 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 21 

So he stayed, and he stayed, and we loved him, 
As we could not have loved another ; 

Do you want to know what his name is ? 
His name is — my little Irother ! 

Melodies for Childhood. 



BABY TEACHINGS. 

Our little baby speaks not, 
Save with her pleading eyes ; 

Her fingers' earnest claspings, 
Her eager, plaintive cries. 

Yet many a holy lesson 

Our baby teaches me ; 
How dear the little teacher ! 

How sweet her lessons be ! 

She tells me what is prayer : 
Not words, or sounding speech ; 

But just the spirit wrestling 
As best its wants may teach. 

She tells me not to slacken 
Nor cease my earnest cry. 

Until the needful blessing 
Be granted from on high. 



22 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

She tells me how confiding 
A child-like soul may rest. 

Trusting the sleepless watchings 
Of Him who loves us best. 

These, and many other lessons 

Our baby teaches me ; 
How dear the little teacher ! 

How sweet her lessons be ! 

Anon. 



IS IT Your 

There is a child, — a boy or girl,- 

I'm sorry it is true, — 
Who doesn't mind when spoken to : 

Is it ? — it isn't you ! 

no, it can't be you ! 

I know a child, — a boy or girl, — 

I'm loth to say I do, — 
Who struck a little playmate child : 

Was it ? — it wasn't you ! 

1 hope that wasn't you ! 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 23 

I know a child, — a boy or girl, — 

I hope that such are few, — 
Who told a lie ; yes, told a lie ! 

Was it ? — it wasn't you ! 

It cannot be 'twas you ! 

There is a boy — I know a boy, — 

I cannot love him though, — 
Who robs the little birdies' nests ; 

Is it ? it can't be you ! 

That bad boy can't be you ! 

A girl there is, — a girl I know, — 

And I could love her too. 
But that she is so proud and vain ; 

Is it ? — it can't be you ! 

That surely isn't you ! 

Mrs. Goodwin. 



THE ROBIN-REDBREASTS. 

Two robin-redbreasts built their nests 

Within a hollow tree ; 
The hen sat quietly at home, 

The cock sang merrily ; 
And all the little young ones said : 
" Wee, wee, wee, wee, wee, wee." 



24 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

One day (the sun was warm and bright, 

And shining in the sky) 
Cock-robin said : " My little dears, 

'Tis time you learned to fly ; " 
And all the little young ones said, 
" ril try, I'll try, I'll try." 

I know a child,— and who she is 

I'll tell you by and by, — 
When mamma says " Do this," or " tliat," 

She says : '' What for ? " and '' Why ? " 
She'd be a better child by far 

If she would say : ••' I'll try." 

Aunt Effie's Rhymes. 



GOOD MORNING. 

" 0, 1 am so happy ! " a little girl said, 

As she sprang, like a lark, from her low trun- 

■ die-bed ; 
" 'Tis morning, bright morning : good morn- 
ing, papa. 
give me one kiss for good morning, mamma : 
Only just look at my pretty canary, 
Chirping his sweet good morning to Mary. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 25 

The sun is peeping straight into my eyes, — 
Good morning to you, Mister Sun, for you rise 
Early to wake up my birdie and me, 
And make us as happy as happy can be." 

" Happy you may be, my dear little girl ; " 
And the mother stroked softly each clustering 

curl : 
" Happy you can be ; but think of the One 
Who wakened, this morning, both you and the 

sun." 
The little girl turned her bright eyes with a 

nod : 
" Mamma, may I say ' Good morning ' to 

God ? " 
" Yes, little darling one, surely you may ; 
Kneel, as you kneel every morning to pray." 
Mary knelt solemnly down, with her eyes 
Looking up earnestly into the skies ; 

And two little hands that were folded together, 

Softly she laid on the lap of her mother : 

"- Good morning, dear Father in heaven," she 

said ; 
" I thank Thee for watching my snug little bed ; 
For taking good care of me all the dark night. 
And waking me up with the beautiful light. 
keep me from naughtiness all the long day, 



26 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Dear Saviour, who taught little children to 
pray ! " 

An angel looked down in the sunshine and 

smiled. 
But she saw not the angel, — that beautiful 

child. 

Anon. 



LITTLE MAY'S NEW-YEAR WISH. 

Ere the tripping feet of dawn 
Chased the night and led the morn, 
Little May, in haste to rise, 
Opened wide her laughing eyes. 

Brushing, with a gentle grace, 
Tangled curls from off her face. 
Noiselessly, she found her way 
Where her mother, sleeping, lay. 

^' Happy New Year, mother dear ! " 
Breathed she in the loved one's ear ; 

" Happy New Year, pa, for you ! 
Little baby brother, too ! " 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 27 

Quickly then her eyes of blue. 
Very, very thoughtful grew ; 
Then she drew close to the bed. 
And, in softest accents, said : 
" Mother, will not Jesus listen, 
If I send one up to heaven ? " 

When the mother gave assent, 
On the carpet low she bent. 
And exclaimed, with joy absorbed, 
" Wish you Happy New Year, Lord ! " 

Then she said, with beaming brow, 
" ril be good the whole year now ; 
That I know's the only way 
To make Him happy every day." 

Little children, wouldn't you 
Like to make Him happy too ? 
Then you must, like little May, 
Be good children every day. 

Anon. 



THE WORLD. 

Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world. 
With the wonderful water round you curled. 
And the wonderful grass upon your breast — 
Great world, you are beautifully drest. 



28 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

The wonderful air is over me, 
And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree ; 
It walks on the water and whirls the mills. 
And talks to itself on the tops of the hills. 

You friendly Earth, how far do you go 

With the wheat-fields that nod, and the rivers 

that flow. 
With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles. 
And people upon you for thousands of miles ? 

Ah, you are so great, and I am so small, 
I tremble to think of you, world, at all ; 
And yet, when I said my prayers to-day, 
A whisper inside me seemed to say, 
'' You are more than the earth, though you 

are such a dot ; 
You can love and think, and the world can- 
not.'' 

LiLLiPUT Lectures, 



LITTLE THINGS. 

Little drops of water. 
Little grains of sand, 

Make the mighty ocean 
And the solid land. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 29 

And the little moments, 

Humble though they be, 
Make the mighty ages 

Of eternity. 

So our little errors 

Lead the soul away 
From the paths of virtue 

Oft in sin to stray. 

Little deeds of kindness, 

Little words of love. 
Make our earth an Eden, 

Like the heaven above. 

Anon. 



DEEDS OF KINDNESS. 

Suppose the little cowslip 

Should hang its little cup. 
And say, " I'm such a tiny flower, 

I'd better not grow up." 
How many a weary traveller 

Would miss its fragrant smell ! 
How many a little child would grieve 

To lose it from the dell ! 



30 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Suppose the glistening dew-drops 

Upon the grass should say, 
'' What can a little dew-drop do ? 

I'd better roll away." 
The blade on which it rested. 

Before the day was done, 
Without a drop to moisten it 

Would wither in the sun. 

Suppose the little breezes, 

Upon a summer's day, 
Should think themselves too small to cool 

The traveller on his way ; 
Who would not miss the smallest 

And softest ones that blow, 
And think they made a great mistake 

If they were talking so ? 

How many deeds of kindness 

A little child may do. 
Although it has so little strength, 

And little wisdom too ! 
It needs a loving spirit, 

Much more than strength, to prove, 
How many things a child may do 

For others by its love. 

Songs for Children. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 31 



LITTLE THINGS. 

It was such a little thing. 

One slight twist of crimson string, 

But 'twas stealing, all the same ; 
And the child who took it knew 
That she told what was not true. 

Just to screen herself from blame. 
First a theft and then a lie. 
Both recorded up on high. 

It was but one little word. 
Softly spoken, scarcely heard. 

Uttered by a single breath ; 
But it dared to take in vain 
God's most high and holy name, 

So provoking wrath and death. 
Soon, the lips, once fresh and fair. 
Opened but to curse and swear. 

It was but one little blow 
Passion's sudden overflow. 

Scarcely heeded in its fall ; 
But, once loosed, the fiery soul 
Would no longer brook control ; 

Laws it spurned — defied Kiom all 
Till the hands love clasped in vain, 
Wore the murderer's crimson stain. 



82 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Ah ! it is the foxes small, 
Slyly climbing o'er the wall. 

That destroy the tender vines ; 
And it is the spark of fire, 
Brightening, spreading, curling higher 

That across the forests shines. 
Just so, step by step, does sin, 
If unchecked, a triumph win. 

Anon. 



THE BEST THAT I CAN. 

" I cannot do much," said a little star, 
" To make the dark world bright ! 

My silvery beams cannot struggle far 
Through the folding gloom of night. 

But I'm only a part of God's great plan, 
And I'll clieerfully do the best I can." 

" What is the use," said a fleecy cloud, 
" Of these few drops that I hold ? 

They will hardly bend the lily proud. 
Though caught in her cup of gold ; 

Yet I am a part of God's great plan, 

So my treasure I'll give as well as I can." 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 33 

A child went merrily forth to play ; 

But a thought, like a silver thread, 
Kept winding in and out all day 

Through the happy, golden head : 
Mother said, " Darling, do all you can. 

For you are a part of God's great plan." 

She knew no more tlian the glancing star, 

Nor the cloud with its chalice full. 
How, why and for what all strange things 
were — 
She was only a child at school ! 
But she thought, " It is part of God's great 
plan 
That even I should do all I can." 

She helped a younger child along 
When the road was rough to the feet. 

And she sung from her heart a little song 
That we all thought passing sweet : 

And her father, a weary, toil-worn man. 
Said, " I will do likewise, the best that I 
can." 

Our best ? Ah, children ! the best of us 

Must hide our faces away, 
When the Lord of the vineyard comes to look 

At our task at the close of the day ; 



34 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

But for strength from above, ('tis the Master's 
plan,) 
We'll pray, and we'll do the best we can. 

Anon. 



WHAT THE SPARROW CHIRPS. 

I am only a little sparrow, 

A bird of low degree ; 
My life is of little value. 

But the dear Lord cares for me. 

He gave me a coat of feathers. 

It is very plain, I know. 
With never a speck of crimson, 

For it was not made for show. 

But it keeps me warm in Winter, 
And it shields me from the rain ; 

Were it bordered with gold or purple, 
Perhaps it would make me vain. 

And now that the Spring-time cometh, 

I will build me a little nest, 
With many a chirp of pleasure, 

In the spot I like the best. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 35 

I have no barn or storehouse, 

I neither sow nor reap : 
God ^ives me a sparrow's portion, 

But never a seed to keep. 

If my meal is sometimes scanty, 

Close picking makes it sweet ; 
1 have always enough to feed me. 

And ^' life is more than meat." 

I know there are many sparrows ; 

All over the world we are found. 
But our heavenly Father knoweth 

When one of us falls to the ground. 

Though small, we are never forgotten ; 

Though weak, we are never afraid ; 
For we know that the dear Lord keepeth 

The life of the creatures he made. 

I fly through the thickest forest, 

I light on many a spray : 
I have no chart nor compass, 

But I never lose my way. 

And I fold my wings at twilight. 

Wherever I happen to be ; 
For the Father is always watching. 

And harm will not come to me. 



36 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

I am only a little sparrow, 

A bird of low degree ; 
But I know the Father loves me. 

Have you less faith than me? 

The Child's Paper. 



MR. NOBODY. 

I know a funny little man. 

As quiet as a mouse, 
Who does the mischief that is done 

In everybody's house. 
There's no one ever sees his face, 

And yet we ail agree, 
That every plate we break was cracked 

By Mr. Nobody. 

'Tis he who always tears our books, — 

Who leaves the door ajar ; 
He pulls the buttons from our shirts. 

And scatters pins afar. 
That squeaking door will always squeak. 

For, prithee, don't you see. 
We leave the oiling to be done 

By Mr. Nobody ? 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 87 

He puts damp wood upon the fire. 

That kettles cannot boil ; 
His are the feet that bring in mud, 

And all the carpets soil. 
The papers always are mislaid ; 

Who had them last, but he ? 
There's no one tosses them about 

But Mr. Nobody. 

The finger marks upon the doors 

By none of us are made ; 
We never leave the blinds unclosed, 

To let the curtains fade. 
The ink we never spill ; the boots 

That lying round you see, 
Are not our boots ! They all belong 

To Mr. Nobody! 

Riverside Magazine. 



SUPPOSE ! 

Suppose, my little lady, 

Your doll should break her head ; 
Could you make it whole by crying 

Till your eyes and nose are red ? 



38 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

And wouldn't it be pleasanter 

To treat it as a joke, 
And say you're glad " 'twas Dolly's, 

And not your head that broke ! " 

Suppose you're dressed for walking, 

And the rain comes pouring down, 
Will it clear off any sooner 

Because you scold and frown ? 
And wouldn't it be nicer 

For you to smile than pout, 
And so make sunshine in the house, 

Wlien there is none without ? 

Suppose your task, my little man, 

Is very hard to get ; 
Will it make it any easier 

For you to sit and fret ? 
And wouldn't it be pleasanter 

Than waiting like a dunce, 
To go to work in earnest, 

And learn the thing at once ? 

Suppose that some boys have a horse, 
And some a coach and pair ; 

Will it tire you less while walking. 
To say '' it isn't fair ? " 

And wouldn't it be nobler 
To keep your temper sweet, 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 39 

And in your heart be thankful 
You can walk upon your feet ? 

And suppose the world don't please you, 

Nor the way some people do, — 
Do you think the whole creation 

Will be altered just for you ? 
And isn't it, my boy or girl. 

The wisest, bravest plan, 
Whatever comes, or doesn't come, 

To do the best you can ? 

Phcebe Carey. 



IP I WERE A SUNBEAM. 

If I were a sunbeam, 
I know what I'd do : 
I would seek white lilies 
Rainy woodlands through ; 
I'd steal in among them ; 
Softest light I'd shed. 
Until every lily 
Raised its drooping head. 

If I were a sunbeam, 
I know where I'd go — 



40 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Into lowliest hovels. 
Dark with want and woe : 
Till sad hearts looked upward, 
I would shine and shine ! 
Then they'd think of heaven, 
Their sweet home and mine. 

Art thou not a sunbeam, 
Child, whose life is glad 
With an inner radiance 
Sunshine never had ? 
0, as God hath blessed thee. 
Scatter rays divine ! 
For there is no sunbeam 
But must die or shine. 

Lucy Lakcom. 



MORNING SONG. 

Witli the dawn awaking, 
Lord, I sing thy praise ; 

Guide fne to thee, making 
Me to know thy ways. 

All thy precepts keeping 

Whole and undefiled, 
Waking, Lord, or sleeping. 

Let me be thy child. 

German Songs. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 41 

SUNDOWN. 

Now the sun is setting : 

See the western sky ; 
How those rays of glory 

Mush the clouds on high ! 

Tree and grass and flower 

Love the crimson light. 
Sun, thy smile sheds gladness ; 

Now, good-night, good-night ! 

Birds and lambs and children 

Soon will go to sleep ; 
Father, dear, in heaven, 

Bless us all, and keep ! 

Anon. 



EVENING HYMN. 

Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me ; 

Bless thy little lamb to-night . 
Through the darkness be thou near me, 

Watch my sleep till morning light. 

All this day thy hand has led me, 

And I thank thee for thy care ; 
Thou hast clothed me, warmed, and fed me ; 

Listen to my evening prayer. 



42 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Let my sins be all forgiven, 

Bless the friends I love so well ; 

Take me, when I die, to heaven, 
Happy there with thee to dwell. 

M. L. Duncan. 



GOOD NIGHT. 

The sun is hidden from our sight, 
The birds are sleeping sound ; 

'Tis time to say to all, " Good night ! '^ 
And give a kiss all round. 

Good night ! ye merry, merry birds. 
Sleep well till morning light ; 

Perhaps if you could sing in words, 
You would have said, " Good night ! " 

To all my pretty flowers, good night ! 

You blossom while I sleep ; 
And all the stars, that shine so bright, 

With you their watches keep. 

The moon is lighting up the skies. 
The stars are sparkling there ; 

'Tis time to shut our weary eyes. 
And say our evening prayer. 

Mrs. Follen. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 43 



LITTLE WILLIE AND THE APPLE. 

Little Willie stood under an apple tree old, 
The fruit was all shining with crimson and 

gold, 
Hanging temptingly low — how he longed for 

a bite, 
Though he knew if he took one it wouldn't be 

right. 

Said he, " I don't see why my father should 

say, 
' Don't touch the old apple tree, Willie, to-day ; ' 
I shouldn't have thought, now they're hanging 

so low, 
When I asked for just one, he would answer 

me, ' No.' 

'* He would never find out if I took but just 

one. 
And they do look so good, shming out in the 

sun. 
There are hundreds and hundreds, and he 

wouldn't miss 
So paltry a little red apple as this." 

He stretched forth his hand, but a low mourn- 
ful strain 



44 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Came wandering dreamily over his brain ; 
In his bosom a beautiful harp had long laid, 
Which the angel of conscience quite frequently 
played ; — 

And he sang, '' Little Willie, beware, beware ! 
Your father is gone, but your Maker is there ; 
How sad you would feel, if you heard the Lord 

say, 
'This dear little boy stole an apple to-day.' " 

Then Willie turned round, and, as still as a 

mouse. 
Crept slowly and carefully into the house. 
Li his own little chamber he knelt down to 

pray 
That the Lord would forgive him, and please 

not to say, 
" Little Willie almost stole an apple to-day." 

Heavenly Tidikgs. 



THE CHILD'S PRAYER. 

The curtains drawn across the light 
Made darkness in the room. 

And in our watching eyes and hearts 
Fear wrought an answering gloom. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 45 

Grief-wrung, we heard from lips we loved 

The moanings of distress, 
And vainly strove to stifle pain 

With helpless tenderness. 

We scarcely marked the three-years boy 

Who stood beside the bed, 
Prom whose wet cheeks and quivering lips 

The frightened dimples fled. 

Till, all at once, with eager hope, 

A thrill in every word. 
Our darling cried, " I guess I'll speak 

About it to the Lord ! " 

He sank upon his bended knee. 
And clasped his hands in prayer, 

While, like a glory, from his brow 
Streamed back his golden hair. 

" Lord ! " he said, " dear Grandma's sick; 

We don't know what to do ! 
If I could only make her well, 

I'm sure I would. Won't you ? " 

He rose ; o'er all his childish face 

A subtle radiance shone. 
As one who on the mount of faith 

Had talked with God alone. 



46 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

We gazed each in the other's eyes, 

We almost held our breath 
Before the fearless confidence 

That shamed our tardy faith. 

But, when our yearning glances sought 

The sufferer's face again, 
A look of growing ease and rest 

Replaced the lines of pain. 

Quick as his trusting prayer to raise, 

Its answer to discern, 
The child climbed up to reach her lips, 

Which kissed him in return. 

'' Grandma " — the ringing accents struck 

A new, triumphant chord — 
'' 1 knew you would be better soon,. 

Because I asked the Lord ! " 

Mary A. P. Humphrey. 



MAYN'T I BE A BOY?" 

"- Mayn't I be a boy ? " said our Mary, 
The tears in her great eyes blue ; 

" I'm only a wee little lassie — 
There's nothing a woman can do. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 47 

'' 'Tis so : I heard Cousin John say so — 
He's home from a great college, too — 

He said so just now in the parlor ; 
' There's nothing a woman can do.' " 

'- My wee little lassie, my darling," 
Said I, putting back her soft hair, 

" I want you, my dear little maiden, 
To smooth away all mother's care. 

" Who is it, when pa comes home weary. 
That runs for his slippers and gown ? 

What eyes does he watch for at morning, 
Looking out from their lashes of brown ? 

" And can you do nothing, my darling, 
What was it that pa said last night ? 

' My own little sunbeam is coming, 
I know, for the room is so bright.' 

" And there is a secret, my Mary — 
Perhaps you will learn it some day — 

The hand that is willing and loving 
Will do the most work on the way. 

" And the work that is sweetest and dearest— 
The work that so many ne'er do — 

The great work of making folks happy 
Can be done by a lassie like you." 

CONGEEGATIONALIST. 



48 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



GIVE. 

See the rivers flowing 

Downward to the sea. 
Pouring all their treasures 

Bountiful and free ! 
Yet, to help their giving, 

Hidden springs -arise ; 
Or, if need be, showers 

Feed them from the skies. • 

Watch the princely flowers 

Their rich fragrance spread ; 
Load the air with perfumes 

From their beauty shed ; 
Yet their lavish spending 

Leaves them not in dearth, 
With fresh life replenished 

By their mother earth. 

Give thy heart's best treasures ; 

From fair Nature learn ; 
Give thy love, and ask not. 

Wait not, a return. 
And the more thou spendest 

From thy little store. 

With a double bounty 

God will give thee more. 

Adelaide A. Proctor. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 49 

BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. 

Buttercups and Daisies, 

Oil ! the pretty flowers ! 
Coming ere the spring-time, 

To tell of sunny hours. 
While the trees are leafless, 

While the fields are bare, 
Buttercups and Daisies 

Spring up everywhere. 

Little hardy flowers, 

Like to children poor, 
Playing in their sturdy health, 

By their mother's door ; 
Purple with the north wind, 

Yet alert and bold, 
Fearing not, and caring not. 

Though they be a-cold. 

What to them is weather ? 

What are stormy showers ? 
Buttercups and Daisies, 

Are these human flowers ! 
He who gave them hardship, 

And a life of care, 
Gave them likewise hardy strength, 

And patient hearts to bear ! 



60 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Welcome, yellow Buttercups ! 

Welcome, Daisies white ! 
Ye are in my spirit 

Visioned, a delight ! 
Coming ere the spring-time 

Of sunny hours to tell. 
Speaking to our hearts of Him 

Who doeth all things well. 

Anok. 



THE BOOK OF NATUEE. 

There is a book, who runs may read, 
Which heavenly truth imparts. 

And all the lore its scholars need, 
Pure eyes and Christian hearts. 

The works of God above, below, 

Within us, and around. 
Are pages in that book to show 

How God himself is found. 

The glorious sky, embracing all, 

Is like the Maker's love. 
Wherewith encompassed, great and small 

In peace and order move. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 51 

The dew of heaven is like His grace. 

It steals in silence down ; 
But where it lights, the favored place. 

By richest fruits is known. 

Thou, who hast given me eyes to see 

And love this sight so fair. 
Give me a heart to find out Thee, 

And read Thee everywhere. 

Keble. 



FLOWERS. 

God might have made the earth bring forth 

Enough for great and small, 
The oak-tree, and the cedar-tree. 

Without a flower at all. 

He might have made enough, enough 

Tor every want of ours. 
For luxury, medicine, and toil, 

And yet have made no flowers. 

The clouds might give abundant rain, 

The nightly dews might fall, 
And the herb that keepeth life in man, 

Might yet have drunk them all. 



52 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, 

And dyed with rainbow light, 
All fashioned with supremest grace, 

Upspringing day and night ? 

Springing in valleys green and low, 

And on the mountains high ; 
And in the silent wilderness, 

Where no one passes by ? 

Our outward life requires them not, 
Then wherefore had they birth ? 

To minister delight to man : 
To beautify the earth ; 

To comfort man, — to whisper hope 

Whene'er his faith is dim ; 
For He who careth for the flowers. 

Will much more care for him ! 

Mary Howitt. 



THE WORSHIP OF NATURE. 

The Ocean looketh up to Heaven, 

As 't were a living thing, 
The homage of its waves is given 

In ceaseless worshipping. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 53 

They kneel upon the sloping sand, 

As bends the human knee, 
A beautiful and tireless band, 

The Priesthood of the Sea ! 

They pour the glittering treasures out, 

Which in the deep have birth, 
And chant their awful hymns about 

The watching hills of earth. 

The green earth sends its incense up 

From every mountain shrine, 
From every flower and dewy cup 

That greeteth the sunshine. 

The mists are lifted from the rills 
Like the white wing of prayer, 

They lean above the ancient hills 
As doing homage there. 

The forest tops are lowly cast 

O'er breezy hill and glen, 
As if a prayerful spirit pass'd 

On Nature as on men. 

The clouds weep o'er the fallen world 

E'en as repentant love ; 
Ere to the blessed breeze unfurl'd 

They fade in light above. 



54 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

The sky is as a temple's arch, 

The blue and wavy air 
Is glorious with the spirit-march 

Of messengers of prayer. 

The gentle moon — the kindling sun — 

The many stars are given. 
As shrines to burn earth's incense on — 

The altar fires of Heaven ! 

Whittier. 



THE LITTLE CHILD AND THE ROBINS. 

To an elm-tree close by our window 
Two dear little robins have come. 

And up in its shady, green branches 
Have made them a beautiful home. 

The green leaves, soft waving above them. 
Are the roof that o'ershadows their nest, 

And the wind, whispering gently around them. 
Is the music that lulls them to rest. 

When the sun comes up from the shadows. 

To tell that a new day is born. 
They wake up, these two little robins, 

And hail the bright light with a song. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 55 

And soon their sweet carols of gladness 

Awaken me out of my dreams, 
And I find that the glorious sunshine 

Is flooding the room with its beams. 

And I offer my prayer of thanksgiving 
To the great God who dwells up on high, 

Who takes care of the birds and the children, 
That not one forgotten may die. 

And every night, before sleeping, 

When the light no longer I see, 
I pray to my Father in heaven. 

To take care of the birdies and me. 

And I know, if I'm good and obey him, 

I'll be happy all my life long. 
Till at length in His beautiful heaven, 

I shall praise him forever in song. 

S. S. Speaker. 



THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER. 

We were crowded in the cabin ; 

Not a soul would dare to sleep : 
It was midnight on the waters. 

And a storm was on the deep. 



66 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

'Tis a fearful thing in winter 
To be shattered by the blast, 

And to hear the rattling trumpet 
Thunder, " Cut away the mast ! '* 

So we shuddered there in silence ; 

For the stoutest held his breath, 
While the hungry sea was roaring 

And the breakers talked of death. 

As thus we sat in darkness, 

Each one busy with his prayers, 

" We are lost ! " the captain shouted, 
As he staggered down the stairs. 

But his little daughter whispered, 

As she took his icy hand, 
'' Isn't God upon the water. 

Just the same as on the land ? '' 

Then he kissed the little maiden, 
And he spoke in better cheer ; 

And we anchored safe in harbor 
When the morn was shining clear ! 

James T. Fields. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. Oi 



MEASURING THE BABY. 

We measured the riotous baby 

Against the cottage wall — 
A lily grew at the threshold, 

And the boy was just as tall. 
A royal tiger lily, 

With spots of purple and gold. 
And a heart like a jewelled chalice, 

The fragrant dew to hold. 

Without, the bluebirds whistled 

High up in the old roof trees, 
And to and fro at the window 

The red rose rocked her bees ; 
And the wee pink fists of the baby 

Were never a moment still ! 
Snatching at shine and shadow 

That danced on the lattice-sill. 

His eyes were wide as blue-bells — 

His mouth like a flower unblown — 
Two bare little feet, like funny white mice, 

Peeped out from his snowy gown ; 
And we thought, with a thrill of rapture 

That yet had a touch of pain. 
When June rolls around with her roses. 

We'll measure the boy again. 



58 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Ah me ! In a darkened chamber, 

With the sunshine shut away, 
Through tears that fell like a bitter rain, 

We measured the boy to-day ; 
And the little bare feet that were dimpled 

And sweet as a bubbling rose. 
Lay side by side together. 

In the hush of a long repose ! 

Up from the dainty pillow. 

White as the risen dawn, 
The fair little face lay smiling. 

With the light of heaven thereon — 
And the dear little hands, like rose-leaves 

Dropped from a rose, lay still, 
Never to snatch at the sunshine 

That crept to the shrouded sill ! 

We measured the sleeping baby 

With ribbons as white as snow, 
For the shining rosewood casket 

That waited him below ; 
And out of the darkened chamber 

We went with a childish moan — 
To the height of the sinless angels 

Our little one had grown ! 

Hearth and Homb. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 59 



THE APPLE-TREE. 

Old John had an apple-tree, healthy and green, 

Which bore the best Baldwins that ever were 

So juicy, and mellow, and red ; [seen, 

And when they were ripe, as old Johnny was 

poor, 
He sold them to children that passed by his 
door 
To buy him a morsel of bread. 

Little Dick, his next neighbor, one often might 

see. 
With longing eye viewing this nice apple-tree, 

And wishing an apple would fall ; 
One day, as he stood in the heat of the sun. 
He began thinking whether he might not take 
one. 
And then he looked over the wall. 

And as he again cast his eye on the tree. 
He said to himself, " O, how nice they would 
be, 

So cool and refreshing to-day ! 
The tree is so full, and I'd only take one. 
And old John won't see, for he is not at home. 

And nobody is in the way." 



60 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

But stop, little boy, take your hand from the 

bough. 
Remember, though old John can't see you just 
now, 
And no one to chide you is nigh. 
There is ONE, who by night, just as well as by 

day. 
Can see all you do, and can hear all you say, 
From his glorious throne in the sky. 

then, little boy, come away from the tree. 
Content, hot or weary, or thirsty to be, 

Or anything, rather than steal ! 
For the great God, who even through darkness 

can look. 
Writes down every crime we commit, in his 
book. 
However we think to conceal. 

Jane Taylor. 



MABEL'S WONDER. 

" There must be flowers in heaven," 
Little Mabel, wondering, cried, 

As she gazed through the frosty window, 
" Ah, yes, ah, yes," I replied. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 61 

*' And every single blossom 

Is white as white can be ! " 
'' Perhaps," I carelessly answered ; 

" When we gei there, we shall see." 

" And, oh ! they have ever so many, 
Why, every tree must be full." 

" Of course, — spring lasts forever 
In heaven," I answered, so dull. 

" Do the angels get tired of flowers ? " 
Asked she, with a gentle sigh ; 

" For see, oh, see, they are throwing 
Whole handfuls down from the sky." 

I sprang to the frosted window 
To see what the child could mean. 

The ground was covered with snowflakes, 
And the air was full between. 

I kissed my innocent darling, 

And speedily set her right, 
While I prayed that her heart might ever 

Be pure as the snow and as bright. 

Sunday-school Speaker. 



62 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



THE BIRDS. 

HUMMING-BIRD. 

I wish I were a humming-bird, 

A tiny little thing, 
With feathers light and airy, 

And a brilliant rainbow wing ; 
Fleet as a sound, I'd fly, I'd fly. 

Away from fear and harm, 
Over the flowers and through the air, 

Inhaling heavenly balm. 

LARK. 

I'd rather be a lark to rise. 

When the sleep of night is done ; 
And higher, higher through the skies 

Soar to the morning sun ; 
And clearer, sweeter, as I rise. 

With rapture I would sing. 
While diadems from heaven's own light 

Would sparkle on my wings. 

NIGHTINGALE. 

Td like to be a nightingale ; 

She sings the sweetest song ; 
The daylight gone, her voice is heard 

In tune the whole night long. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 63 

The stars look down from heaven's dome. 

The pale moon rolls along ; 
And maybe angels live up there, 

And listen to her song. 

EAGLE. 

Of all the birds that sing so sweet, 

Or roam the air so free, 
With pinions firm, and proud, and strong, 

The eagle I would be ; 
On some high mount whose rugged peaks 

Beyond the clouds do rest. 
There, in the blaze of day, I'd find 

My shelter and my rest. 

DOVE. 

The humming-bird's a pretty thing. 

The lark flies very high. 
The eagle's very proud and strong. 

The nightingale sings lullaby ; 
But, as I want a nature 

That every one can love. 
And would be gentle, mild, and sweet, 

I think I'll be a dove. 

CHICKADEE. 

I'll tell you what I want to be, — 
A little, merry chickadee ; 



64 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

In the storm and in the snow, 
When the cold winds fiercely blow, 
Not to mind the wintr)^ blast, 
Nor how long the storm may last, 
Active, merry, blithe, and free, . 
This's the bird I'd like to be. 

RESPONSE. 

I do not want to be a bird. 

And really had not you 
Much rather be like all the birds, 

And yet be children too ? 
The humming-bird, from bloom to bloom 

Inhales the heavenly balm ; 
So we from all may gather good, 

And still reject the harm. 
And, like the lark, our minds arise, 

By inspirations given. 
To bathe our souls, as she her wings, 

In the pure light of heaven. 
The nightingale sings all the night. 

In sweet, harmonious lays ; 
So, in the night of sorrow, we 

Should sing our Maker's praise. 
The eagle, firm, and proud, and strong, 

On his own strength relying, 
Soars through the storm, the lightning's glare 

And thunders bold defying. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 65 

Till far above the clouds and storm, 

High on some mountain crest, 
He finds the sun's clear light at last, 

And there he goes to rest. 
Be ours a spirit firm and true, 

Bold in the cause of right, 
Ever steadily onward moving, 

And upward to the light ; 
But still as gentle as the dove. 

As loving and as true ; 
Every word and act be kindness, 

All life's journey through ; 
Always thankful, happy, free ; 

Though life's tempests fiercely blow ; 
Cheerful as a chickadee 

Flying through the wintry snow. 

Myka a. Shattuck. 



MAGGIE READING HER TESTAMENT. 

Mamma, when our Lord was a dear little child, 
Do you think he was loved as you love me ? 

Do you think he played, and prattled, and 
smiled, 
And loved to climb on his mother's knee ? 



66 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Did she clasp him close, and hold him lon^, 
And call him her own, her heavenly boy. 

And, softly humming, sing over the song 
Tliat the angels sang on that night of joy ? 

Did lie say his prayers when he went to slecf), 
Asking God's care for friends who are dear ? 

Did he ever grieve ? did he ever weep ? 
Did he ever wish ? did he ever fear ? 

Was he always thinking-, I wonder, of God ? 

Was he always praying and never gay ? 
Was he always reading the Holy Word ? 

Was he not ready sometimes to play ? 

His playmates, too, I wonder about, — 

What were their games when all together ? 

I cannot think he would run and shout 
As other boys do in the pleasant weather ! 

Who taught him, I wonder, his letters to 
know, — 

Those letters that look so strange and hard ; 
I wonder if he to school did gOj 

And how early he learned to read the word. 

Did he understand what the prophets meant ? 
Did he always feel sure that he was the 
Lord? 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 67 

Did he always know that he had been sent 
To open the straight and narrow road ? 

He had brothers and sisters, the Bible says, — 
James, and Joses, and Simon, and Jude : 

I suppose when they quarrelled, one look of his 
Would make them feel sorry and try to be 
good. 

How did he look ? I sometimes say ; 

And would he have spoken had I been 
there ? 
Spoken, and not have sent me away ? 

Of his notice allowed me a little share ? 

At night, I suppose, when all were asleep, 
The angels came and talked with him long ; 

Bade him his faith and his courage keep ; 
Sang him to sleep with a heavenly song. 

" Woman," he said — and that seems so hard ! 

'' Mother " no more after Cana's wine ; 
Did he want her to know him henceforth as 
the Lord ? 

To forget her son in the Christ divine ? 

He lived at Nazareth on the hill ; 

Do you think he gazed at the sunset glow, 
And sighed at the glory so bright and still, 

And the toil in the carpenter's shop below ? 



68 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Thirty long years he waited apart ; 

Thirty to wait for three to teach ! 
All of that time was he searching his heart 

So long getting ready to heal and to preach ? 

I shall sometime know ; for now above. 
Where the golden gates in splendor shine, 

The Lord of light and the Lord of love, 
He sits in a glory all divine. 

All divine, and with nought of earth 

Save the human form which he took away ; 

Yet I'm sure he remembers his lowly birth. 
And I know that he hears when children 
pray. 

And when to his heavenly home I go, 

And am face to face with the angels mild, 

I will ask them to tell me all they know 
Of our Lord on earth as a little child. 

Mrs. Sarah B. Henshaw. 



THE LIGHTHOUSE. 

The tide comes up, and the tide goes down, 
Over the rocks so rugged and brown, 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 69 

And the cruel sea, wiih a hungry roar. 
Dashes its breakers along the shore ; 

But steady and clear, with a constant ray 
The star of the lighthouse shines alway. 

The ships come sailing across the main, 
But the harbor mouth is hard to gain, 
For the treacherous reef lies close beside, 
And the rocks are bare at the ebbing tide. 

And the blinding fog comes down at night. 
Shrouding and hiding the harbor light. 

The sailors, sailing their ships along, 
Will tell you a tale of the lighthouse strong ; 
How once, when tlie keeper was far away, 
A terrible storm swept down the bay. 

And two little children were left to keep 
Their awesome watch with the angry deep. 

The fair little sister wept, dismayed, 
But the brother said, '' I am not afraid ; 
There's ONE who ruleth on sea and land. 
And holds the waves in His mighty hand ; 
For Christ's dear sake 1 will watch to- 
night. 
And feed, for the sailors, the beacon 
lidit." 



^&^ 



So the sailors heard through the murky shroud 
The fog-bell sounding its warning loud ; 



70 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

While the children up in the lonely tower, 
Tended the lamp in the midnight hour, 

And prayed for any whose souls might be 
In deadly peril by land or sea. 

Ghostly and dim, when the storm was o'er 
The ships rode safely, far off the shore. 
And a boat shot out from a town that lay, 
Dusk and purple, across the bay. 

She touched her keel to the lighthouse 
strand. 

And the eager keeper leaped to land. 

And swiftly climbing the lighthouse stair. 

He called to his children, young and fair ; 

But, worn with their toilsome watch, they 
slept. 

While slowly over their foreheads crept 
The golden light of the morning sun. 
Like a victor's crown, when his palm is 
won. 

" God bless ye, children," the keeper cried, 
" God bless thee, father," the boy replied. 
'' I dreamed that there stood beside my bed, 
A beautiful angel, who smiled and said, 

' Blessed are they whose love can make 
Joy of labor, for Christ's dear sake.' " 

J^MiLY H. Miller, in Little Corporai.. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 71 



LIFE'S WORK. 

AH around us, fair with flowers, 
Fields of beauty sleeping lie ; 

All around us clarion voices 
Call to duty stern and high. 

Thankfully we will rejoice in 
All the beauty God has given ; 

But beware it does not win us 

From the work ordained of Heaven. 

Following every voice of mercy, 
With a trusting, loving heart. 

Let us in life's earnest labor 
Still be sure to do our part. 

Now, to-day, and not to-morrow. 
Let us work with all our might, 

Lest the wretched faint and perish 
In the coming stormy night. 

Now, to-day, and not to-morrow, 
Lest before to-morrow's sun 

We, too, mournfully departing, 
Shall have left our work undone. 

Anon. 



72 POETICAL SELECTIONS* 



NO. 

There's a word very short, but decided and 
plain. 
That speaks to the purpose at once ; 
Not a child but its meaning can quickly ex- 
plain, 
Yet often 'tis hard to pronounce ; 
What a world of vexation and trouble 'twould 
spare, 
What pleasure and peace 'twould bestow. 
If we turned, when temptation would lure and 
ensnare. 
And firmly repulsed it with '' No ! " 

When the idler would tempt us, with trifles 
and play. 
To waste the bright moments so dear ; 
When the scoffer unholy our faith would gain- 
say, 
And mock at the word we revere ; 
When deception and falsehood and guile would 
invite, 
And fleeting enjoyments bestow. 
Never palter with truth for a transient delight, 
But check the first impulse v^ith '' No ! " 

In the morning of life, in maturity's day, 
Whatever the cares that engage, 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 73 

Be the precepts of virtue our guide and our 
stay, 
Our solace from youth unto age ! 
Tims the heart sliall ne'er waver, no matter 
how tried, 
But firmness and constancy show, 
And when passion or folly Avould draw us 
aside, 
We'll spurn the seducer with '- No ! " 

George Bennett. 



A WALK IN A CHURCHYARD. 

We walked within the churchyard bounds. 

My little boy and I, — 
He laughing, running happy rounds," 

1 pacing mournfully. 

'' Nay, child I it is not well," I said, 

" Among the graves to shout, 
To laugh and play among the dead, 

And make this noisy rout." 

A moment to my side he clung, 

Leaving his merry play, 
A moment stilled his joyous tongue, 

Almost as hushed as they : 



\ 



74 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Then, quite forgetting the command, 

In life's exulting burst 
Of early glee, let go my hand, 

Joyous as at the first. 

And now I did not check him more. 

For, taught by Nature's face, 
I had grown wiser than before, 

Even in that moment's space. 

She spread no funeral pall above 
That patch of churchyard ground, 

But the same azure vault of love 
As hung o'er all around. 

And white clouds o'er that spot would pass, 

As freely as elsewhere ; 
The sunshine on no other grass 

A richer hue misrht wear. 



^a*^ 



And formed from out that very mould 

In which the dead did lie, 
The daisy with its eye of gold. 

Looked up into the sky. 

The rook was wheeling overhead, 
Nor hastened to be gone, — 

The small bird did its glad notes shed, 
Perched on a gray headstone. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 75 

And God, 1 said, would never give 

This light upon the earth. 
Nor bid in childhood's heart to live 

These springs of gushing mirth. 

If our one wisdom were to mourn 
And linger with the dead, — 
To nurse, as wisest, thoughts forlorn 
Of worm and earthy bed. 

no ! the glory earth puts on. 

The child's unchecked delight. 
Both witness to a triumph won, 

If we but read aright, — 

A triumph won o'er sin and death, — 

From these the Saviour saves ; 
And, like a happy infant, Faith 

Can play among the graves. 

R. C. Trench. 



AT NIGHTFALL. 

Come stand by my knee, little children, 
Too weary for laughter or song, ^ 

The sports of the day are all over, 
And evening is creeping along. 

The snow-fields are white in the moonlight, 
The winds of the winter are chill, 



76 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

But, under the sheltering roof-tree, 
The fire shines ruddy and still. 

You sit by the fire, little children. 

Your cheeks are ruddy and warm, 
But out in the cold of the winter 

Is many a shivering form. 
There are mothers that wander for shelter, 

And babes that are pining for bread ; 
! thank the dear Lord, little children, 

From whose tendei* hand you are fed. 

Come look in my eyes, little children. 

And tell me — through all the long day 
Have you thought of the Father above us, 

Who guarded from evil your way ? 
He heareth the cry of the sparrow. 

And careth for great and for small ; 
In life and in death, little children. 

His love is the truest of all. 

Now go to your rest, little children. 

And over your innocent sleep. 
Unseen by your visions, the angels 

Their watch, through the darkness, shall 
% keep. 

Then pray that the Shepherd who guideth 

The lambs that he loveth so well, 
May lead you, in life's rosy morning, 

Beside the still waters to dwell.^ 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 77 



HEIRSHIP. 



Little store of wealth have I ; 

Not a rood of land I own ; 
Nor a mansion fair and high 

Built with towers of fretted stone. 
Stocks, nor bonds, nor title-deeds. 

Flocks nor herds have I to show ; 
When I ride, no Arab steeds 

Toss for me their manes of snow. 

I have neither pearls nor gold. 

Massive plate, nor jewels rare ; 
Broidered silks of worth untold, 

Costly robes a queen might wear. 
In my garden's narrow bound 

Flauilt no costly tropic blooms, 
Loading all the air around 

With a weight of rare perfumes. 

Yet to an immense estate 

Am I heir, by grace of God — 
Richer, grander than doth wait 

Any earthly monarch's nod. 
Heir of all the Ages, I — 

Heir of all that tliey have wrought, 
All their store of emprise high. 

All their wealth of precious thought. 



78 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Every golden deed of theirs 

Sheds its lustre on my way ; 
All their labors, all their prayers 

Sanctify this present day ! 
Heir of all that they have earned 

By their passion and their tears — 
Heir of all that they have learned 

Through the weary, toiling years. 

Heir of all the faith sublime 

On whose wings they soared to heaven ; 
Heir of every hope that Time 

To Earth's fainting sons hath given ! 
Aspirations pure and high — 

Strength to dare and to endure — 
Heir of all the Ages, I — 

Lo ! I am no longer poor ! 

Julia C. R. Doke. 



WHO BIDS FOR THE CHILDEEN? 

Who bids for the little children, 

Body, and soul, and brain ? 
Who bids for the little children, 

Young and without a stain ? 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 79 

*' Will no one bid," said England, 
For their souls so pure and white. 

And fit for all good and evil. 

The world on their pages may write ? 

" We bid," said Pest and Famine, 

" We bid for life and limb ; 
Fever and pain and squalor, 

Their laughing eyes shall dim ; 
When the children grow too many. 

We'll nurse them as our own, 
And hide them in secret places, 

Where none may hear their moan." 

" I bid," said Beggary, howling, 

" 111 buy them one and all ; 
I'll teach them a thousands lessons, 

To lie, to skulk, to crawl ; 
They shall sleep in my lairs like maggots, 

They shall rot in the fair sunshine, 
And if they serve my purpose, 

I hope they'll answer thine." 

" And I'll bid higher and higher," 

Said Crime, with wolfish grin, 
'' For I love to lead the children. 

Through the pleasant paths of sin ; 
They shall swarm in the streets to pilfer, 

They shall plague the broad highway, 



80 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Till they grow too old for pity, 
And ripe for the law to slay." 

" 0, shame," said true Religion, 

'• 0, shame that this should be ! 
I'll take the little children, 

I'll take them all to me ; 
I'll raise them up with kindness. 

Prom the mire in which they're trod ; 
I'll teach them words of blessing, 

I'll lead them up to God." 

Sunday-School Advocate. 



THE CHRISTIAN AND HIS ECHO. 

True faith, producing love to God and man, 
Say, Echo, is not this the gospel plan ? 
The gospel plan. 

Must I my faith and love to Jesus show, 
By doing good to all, both friend and foe ? 
Both friend and foe. 

But if a brother hates and treats me ill. 
Must I return him good, and love him still ? 
Love him still. 

If he my failings watches to reveal, 
Must I his faults as carefully conceal ? 
As carefully conceal. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 81 

But if my name and character he blast, 
And cruel malice, too, a long time last, 
If, when I sorrow and affliction know, 
He loves to add unto my cup of woe ; 
In this uncommon, this peculiar case, 
Sweet Echo, say, must I still love and bless ? 
Still love and bless. 

Whatever usage ill I may receive, 
Must I be patient still, and still forgive ? 
Be patient still and still forgive. 

Why, Echo, how is this ? thou'rt sure a dove ! 
Thy voice shall teach me nothing else but love. 
Nothing else but love. 

Amen ! with all my heart, then be it so ; 
'Tis all delightful, just, and good, I know ; 
And now to practice I'll directly go. 
Directly go. 

Things being so, whoever me reject. 
My gracious God me surely will protect. 
Surely will protect. 

Henceforth I'll roll on Him my every care. 
And then both friend and foe embrace in 
prayer. 

Embrace in prayer. 



82 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

But after all those duties I have done, 
Must I, in point of merit, then disown, 
And trust for heaven througli Jesus' blood 
alone ? 

Througli Jesus^ blood alone. 

Echo, enough, thy counsels to mine ear. 
Are sweeter than to flowers the dew-drop tear ; 
Thy wise instructive lessons please me well ; 
I'll go and practice them. Farewell, farewell ! 
Practice them. Farewell^ farewell ! 
Author of "The Changed Cross." 



THE CHILDEEN'S PRAYER. 

Beautiful the children's faces ! 

Spite of all that mars and sears ; 
To my inmost heart appealing. 
Calling forth love's tenderest feeling : 

Steeping all my soul with tears. 

Eloquent the children's faces — 
Poverty's lean look, which saith, 

Save us ! save us ! woe surrounds us ; 

Little knowledge sore confounds us ; 
Life is but a lingering death. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 83 

Give us lij^^ht amid our darkness ; 

Let us know the good from ill ; 
Hate us not for all our blindness ; 
Love us, lead us, show us kindness, 

You can make us what you will. 

We are willing ; we are ready : 

We would learn if you would teach; 

We have hearts that yearn towards duty ; 

We have minds alive to beauty ; 
Souls that any height can reach. 

Raise us by your Christian knowledge ; 

Consecrate to man our powers ; 
Let us take our proper station ; 
We, the rising generation, 

Let us stamp the age as ours. 

We shall be what you will make us ; — 

Make us wise, and make us good; 
Make us strong in time of trial, 
Teach us temperance, self-denial, 
Patience, kindness, fortitude ! 

Look into our childish faces ; 

See ye not our willing hearts ? 
Only love us, — only lead us, 
Only let us know you need us, 

And we all will do our parts. 



84 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

We are thousands — many thousands ! 

Every day our ranks increase ; 
Let us march beneath your banner, 
We, the legion of true honor, 

Combating for love and peace ! 

Train us ! try us ! days slide onward. 
They can ne'er be ours again ; 

Save us, save ! from our undoing ! 

Save from ignorance and ruin ; 
Make us worthy to be Men ! 

Send us to our weeping mothers, 

Angel-stamped in heart and brow ; 
We may be our father's teachers : 
We may be the mightiest preachers, 
In the day that dawneth now. 

Such the children's mute appealing ! 

All my inmost soul was stirred ; 
And my heart was bowed with sadness, 
When a cry, like summer's gladness. 

Said, " The children's prayer is heard ! " 

Mary Howitt. 

THE FIRST SNOW PALL. 

The snow had begun in the gloaming, 
And busily all the night 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 85 

Had been heaping field and highway 
With a silence deep and white. 

Every pine and fir and hemlock 
Wore ermine too dear for an earl, 

And the poorest twig on the elm-tree 
Was ridged inch-deep with pearl. 

From sheds new-roofed with Carrara 
Came Chanticleer's muffled crow. 

The stiff rails were softened to swan's down. 
And still fluttered down the snow! 

I stood and watched by the window 

The noiseless work of the sky. 
And the sudden flurries of snow-birds, 

Like brown leaves whirling by. 

I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn, 

Where a little headstone stood ; 
How the flakes were folding it gently. 

As did robins the babes in the wood. 

Up spoke our own little Mabel, 

Saying, " Father, who makes it snow ? " 

And I told of the good All-Father 
Who cares for us here below. 

Again I looked at the snow-fall. 
And thought of the leaden sky 



86 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

That arched o'er our first great sorrow 
When that mound was heaped so high. 

I remembered the gradual patience 
Tliat fell from that cloud like snow, 

Flake by flake, healing and hiding 
The scar of our deep-plunged woe. 

And again to the child I whispered, 

" The snow that husheth all, 
Darling, the merciful Father 

Alone can make it fall." 

Then with eyes that saw not 1 kissed her, 
And she, kissing back, could not know 

That my kiss was given to her sister 
Folded close under deepening snow. 

Lowell. 



THE BURIAL OP MOSES. 

" And He buried him in a valley in the land of Moab 
over against Beth-Peor; but no man knoweth of his 
sepulchre unto this dayJ^—Deut. xxxiv. 6. 

" By Nebo's lonely mountain, 

On this side Jordan's wave. 
In a vale in the land of Moab 

There lies a lonely grave. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS 87 

And no man knows that sepulchre. 

And no man saw it e'er, 
For the angels of God upturned the sod, 

And laid the dead man there. 

" That was the grandest funeral 

That ever passed on earth ; 
But no man heard the trampling, 

Or saw the train go forth — 
Noiselessly, as the daylight 

Comes back when night is done, 
And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek 

Grows into the great sun. 

" Noiselessly, as the spring-time 

Her crown of verdure weaves, 
And all the trees on all the hills 

Open their thousand leaves ; 
So, without sound of music. 

Or voice of them that wept, 
Silently, down from mountain's crown 

The great procession swept. 

'' Perchance the bald old eagle. 

On gray Beth-Peor's height. 
Out of his lonely eyrie, 

Looked on the wond'rous sight. 
Perchance the lion, stalking, 



88 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Still shuns that hallowed spot ; 
For beast and bird have seen and heard • 
That which man knoweth not 

" But when the warrior dieth. 

His comrades in the war 
With arms reversed, and muffled drum, 

Follow his funeral car ; 
They show the banners taken ; 

They tell his battles won, 
And after him lead his masterless steed, 

While peals the minute-gun. 

" Amid the noblest of the land. 

We lay the sage to rest, 
And give the bard an honored place. 

With costly marble drest. 
In the great minster transept. 

Where lights like glories fall. 
And the organ rings and the sweet choir sings 

Along the blazoned wall. 

"- This was the truest warrior 

That ever buckled sword ; 
This the most gifted poet 

That ever breathed a word ; 
And never earth's philosopher 

Traced, with his golden pen. 
On the deathless page, truths half so sage 

As he wrote down for men. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 89 

" And had he not high honor — 

The hill-side for a pall, 
To lie in state, while angels wait, 

With stars for tapers tall. 
And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes, 

Over his bier to wave. 
And God's own hand, in that lonely land, 

To lay him in the grave ? 

" In that strange grave without a name, 

Whence his uncofRned clay 
Shall break again, 0, wondrous thought ! 

Before the judgment day. 
And stand, with glory wrapped around, 

On the hills he never trod, 
And speak of the strife that won our life. 

With th' incarnate Son of God. 

" lonely grave in Moab's land ! 

dark Beth-Peor's hill ! 
Speak to these curious hearts of ours, 

And teach them to be still. 
God hath his mysteries of grace ; 

Ways that we cannot tell ; 
He hides them deep, like the hidden sleep 

Of him he loved so well." 

Mrs. C. F. Alexander. 



90 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



THE VAUDOIS TEACHER. 

" lad}^ fair, these siiks of mine are beautiful 

and rare, — 
The richest web of the Indian loom which 

beauty's queen might wear ; 
And my pearls are pure as thy own fair neck 

with whose radiant light they vie ; 
I have bi'ought them with me a weary way, — 

will my gentle lady buy ? " 

And the lady smiled on the worn old man 

through the dark and clustering curls 
Which veiled her brow as she bent to view 

his silks and glittering pearls ; 
And she placed their price in the old man's 

hand, then lightly turned away ; 
But she turned at the wanderer's earnest 

call, — " My gentle lady, stay ! " 

" lady fair, I have yet a gem which a purer 

lustre flings 
Than the diamond flash of the jewelled crown 

on the lofty brow of kings, — 
A wonderful pearl of exceeding price, whose 

virtue sliall not decay. 
Whose light shall be as a spell to thee, and a 

blessing on thy way ! " 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 91 

The lady glanced at the mirroring steel where 

her form of grace was seen, 
Where her eye shone clear, and her dark locks 

waved their clasping pearls between : — 
'' Bring forth thy pearl of exceeding worth, 

thou traveller gray and old. 
And name the price of thy precious gem, and 

my page shall count thy gold." 

The cloud went off from the pilgrim's brow, 

as a small and meagre book, 
Unchased with gold or gem of cost, from his 

folding robe he took ! 
'' Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price ; may it 

prove as such to thee ! 
Nay — keep thy gold — I ask it not, for the 

Word of God is free I " 

The hoary traveller went his way, but the gift 

he left behind 
Hath had its pure and perfect work on that 

high-born maiden's mind, 
And she hath turned from the pride of sin to 

the lowliness of truth. 
And given her human heart to God in its 

beautiful hour of youth. 

And she hath left the gray old halls where an 
evil faith hath power. 



92 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

The courtly knights of her father's train, and 

the maidens of her bower ; 
And she hath gone to the Vaudois vales, by 

lordly feet untrod, 
Where the poor and needy of earth are rich in 

the perfect love of God. 

Whittier. 



1 WANT TO JOIN THE RANSOMED. 

I want to join the ransomed, 

And with the ransomed stand, 
" A crown upon my forehead, 

A harp within my hand." 
I want to join their chorus, 

My voice I want to raise. 
And swell the song of victory, 

To my Eedeemer's praise. 

Angels look on in wonder, 

They cannot join that song. 
But list in silent rapture. 

While saints their notes prolong. 
Make me a saint in glory. 

Oh, let me see thy face. 
Like those who now before thee, 

Repeat thy wond'rous grace. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 93 

I would not be an angel, 

For them no Saviour died, 
No, rather let me glory 

In Christ, the crucified. 
His love shall draw me nearer 

Than angels ever come, 
At His right hand He'll place me. 

In our eternal home. 

Sunday-School Times. 



GOLDEN HAIR. 

Golden Hair sat on her grandfather's knee ; 
Dear little Golden Hair, tired was she. 
All the day busy, as busy could be. 

Up in the morning, as soon as 'twas light. 
Out with the birds and the butterflies bright. 
Flitting about till the coming of night. 

Grandfather toyed with the curls on her head ; 
" What has my baby been doing," he said, 
'' Since she arose, with the sun, from her bed ? " 

" Pitty much," answered the sweet little one, 
" I cannot tell, so much things have I done ; 
Played with my dolly, and feeded my ' bun.' 



94 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

"And I have jumped with my little jump-rope, 
And then I made, out of water and soap. 
Bustle worlds^ mamma's castles of hope. 

'' Then I have readed in my picture-book. 

And little Bella and I went to look 

For some smooth stones by the side of the brook. 

" Then I corned home and eated my tea, 
And I climbed up to my grandpa's knee, 
Tm jes as tired as tired can be." 

Nearer and nearer the little head pressed, 
Until it dropped upon grandfather's breast ; 
Dear little Golden Hair, sweet be thy rest. 

We are but children ; the things that we do 
Are as sports of a babe to the Infinite view. 
That sees all our weakness and pities it too. 

God grant that when night overshadows our 

way, 
And we shall be called to account for the day. 
He may find it as guileless as Golden Hair's 

play. 

And oh ! when aweary, may we be so blest 
As to sink, like an innocent child, to our rest. 
And feel ourselves clasped to the Infinite breast. 

Anon. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 95 



LITTLE BESSIE. 



" Hug me closer, closer, mother ; 
Put your arms around me tight ; 
I am cold and tired, mother. 
And I feel so strange to-night ! 
Something hurts me here, dear mother, 
Like a stone upon my breast : 
0, I wonder, wonder, mother. 
Why it is I cannot rest ! 

" All the day, while you were working, 
As I lay upon my bed, 
I was trjdng to be patient. 
And to think of what you said : 
How the kind and blessed Jesus 
Loves his lambs to watch and keep ; 
And I wished he'd come and take me 
In his arms, that I might sleep. 

" Just before the lamp was lighted, 
Just before the children came, 
While the room was very quiet, 
I heard some one call my name. 
All at once the windows opened : 
In a field were lambs and sheep ; 
Some from out a brook were drinking, 
Some were lying fast asleep. 



96 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

" But I could not see the Saviour, 
Though I strained my eyes to see ; 
And I wondered, if he saw me, 
If he'd speak to such as me. 
In a moment I was looking 
On a world so bright and fair. 
Which was full of little children, 
And they seemed so happy there. 

"- They were singing, how sweetly ! 
Sweeter songs I never heard ; 
They were singing sweeter, mother. 
Than can sing our pretty bird ; 
And while I my breath was holding, 
One so bright upon me smiled, 
That I knew it must be Jesus, 
And he said, ' Come here, my child ; 

" ' Come up here, my little Bessie ; 
Come up here, and live with me ; 
Where the children never suffer. 
But are happier than you see.' 
Then I thought of all you told me, 
Of that bright and happy land : 
I was going, when you called me, 
When you came and kissed my hand. 

" And at first I felt so sorry 
You had called me : I would go — 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 97 

0, to sleep, and never suffer ! — 
Mother, don't be crying so ! 
Hug me closer, closer, mother ; 
Put your arms around me tight ; 
0,how much I love you, mother! 
But I feel so strange to-night ! " 

And the mother pressed her closer 
To her overburdened breast ; 
On the heart so near to breaking. 
Lay the heart so near at rest ! 
In the solemn hour of midnight, 
In the darkness calm and deep, 
Lying on her mother's bosom. 
Little Bessie fell asleep ! 

Melodies for Childhood. 



LOST MARGERY. 

0, where has the little one fled, 
The child with the innocent eyes, 

With the ready smile and the springing step, 
And the merry, quick replies ? 

She was always so gay and so bright 
That I miss her when she is gone ; 

Is she out at her play in the garden there ? 
Do you think she would leave me alone ? 



98 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Perhaps she is hunting the flowers 

That come when the snow melts away, — 

The crocuses, starting up purple and white, 
Or the violets, children of May. 

Or perhaps she is out with the birds, 
Teaching robin and sparrow to sing ; 

Or dancing along with the glad little stream, 
Set free by the touch of the spring. 

Oh, why are your eyes so sad ? 

Have you never a word to say ? 
Did the angels lean from their heavenly height 

And beckon my darling away ? 

Has she gone through the gates of pearl ? 

Has she crossed the jasper sea ? 
She cannot be lost whom the angels have found. 

But she will not come back to me. 

Louise Chandler Moulton. 



THE OPEN DOOK. 

Within a town of Holland once 
A widow dwelt, 'tis said, 

So poor, alas ! her children asked 
One night in vain for bread. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 99 

But this poor woman loved the Lord, 

And knew that he was good ; 
So with her little ones around. 

She prayed to him for food. 

When prayer was done, her eldest child, 

A boy of eight years old. 
Said softly, '' In the Holy Book, 

Dear mother, we are told 
How God, with food by ravens brought, 

Supplied his prophet's need." 
^* Yes," answered she ; " but that, my son, 

Was long ago indeed." 

" But, mother, God may do again 

What he has done before ; 
And so to let the birds fly in 

I will unclose the door ! " 
Then little Dick, in simple faith, 

Opened the door full wide. 
So that the radiance of their lamp 

Fell on the path outside. 

Ere long the burgomaster passed, 

And, noticing the light. 
Paused to inquire why the door 

Was open so, at night. 
" My little Dick has done it, sir," 

The widow, smiling, said. 



100 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

" That ravens might fly in to bring 
My hungry children bread/' 

" Indeed," the burgomaster cried ; 

" Then here's a raven, lad ; 
Come to my home, and you shall see 

Where bread may soon be had." 
Along the street to his own house 

He quickly led the boy, 
And sent hiin back with food that filled 

His humble home with joy. 

The supper ended, little Dick 

Went to the open door, 
Looked up, said, " Many thanks, good Lord ! ' 

Then shut it fast once more ; 
For though no bird had entered in, 

He knew that God on high. 
Had hearkened to his mother's prayer, 

And sent the full supply. 

Tract JouRNAii. 



THE LITTLE ORPHAN. 

Out in the night, on a hard gray stone, 
A poor little beggar girl knelt alone ; 
And, clasping her hands in the quiet air, 
She softly whispered her evening prayer. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 101 

" God, thou knowest I have no home ; 
But if thou wilt tell thine angels to come 
And keep their watch o'er me, I'll not fear 
Though I lay me down on the earth so drear. 

" In all this world I have no kind face, 
No eye to pity, no arm to embrace ; 
But Jesus can look on me from above, 
And I shall not want any other love." 

The child gazed into the far-ofif height, 
Where myriads of stars were gleaming bright ; 
And nearer and nearer the glory came, 
Till the earth around her seemed a-flame. 

And the faces of father and mother were there, 
And visions of angels filled the air, 
And the voice of Jesus said to her, " Come ! 
You are wanted in your eternal home." 

The morning sun arose and shone 
On a little form by the hard gray stone ; 
But the beggar's soul had cleft the skies, 
And was happy and free in Paradise. 

Child at Home. 



102 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

ONE STEP MORE. 

What though before me it is dark, 

Too dark for me to see ? 
I ask but light for one step more, 

'Tis quite enough for me. 

Each little humble step I take, 
The gloom clears from the next ; 

So, though 'tis very dark beyond, 
I never am perplexed. 

And if sometimes the mist hangs close, 

So close I fear to stray, 
Patient I wait a little while. 

And soon it clears away. 

I would not see my further path, 

For mercy veils it so ; 
My present steps might harder be 

Did I the future know. 

It may be that my path is rough. 

Thorny and hard and steep ; 
And, knowing this, my strength might fail, 

Through fear and terror deep. 

It may be that it winds along 
A smooth and flowery way ; 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 103 

But seeing this I might despise 
The journey of to-day. 

Perhaps my path is very short, 

My journey nearly done, 
And I might tremble at the thought 

Of ending it so soon. 

Or, if I saw a weary length 

Of road that I must wend, 
Fainting, I'd think, " My feeble powers 

Will fail me ere the end." 

And so I do not wish to see 

My journey or its length ; ♦ 

Assured that, through my Father's love, 

Each step will bring its strength. 

Thus step by step I onward go. 

Not looking far before ; 
Trusting that I shall always have 

Light for just " one step more." 

British Messenger. 



THE EOBIN. 

My old Welsh neighbor over the way 
Crept slowly out in the sun of spring, 



104 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Pushed from her ears the locks of gray, 
And listened to hear the robin sing. 

Her grandson, playing at marbles, stopped, 
And cruel in sport, as boys will be, 

Tossed a stone at the bird, who hopped 
From bough to bough in the apple-tree. 

" Nay ! " said the grandmother, '' have you not 
My poor bad boy ! of the fiery pit, [heard. 

And how, drop by drop, this merciful bird 
Carries the water that quenches it ? 

He brings cool dew in his little bill. 
And lets it fall on the souls of sin ; 

You can see the mark on his red breast still 
Of fires that scorch as he drops it in. 

My poor Bron rlmddyn ! my breast-burned bird, 
Singing so sweetly from limb to limb, 

Very dear to the heart of our Lord 
Is he who pities the lost like Him ! '' 

" Amen ! " I said to the beautiful myth, 
" Sing, bird of God, in my heart as well ; 

Each good thought is a drop wherewith 
To cool and lessen the fires of hell. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 105 

Prayers of love like rain-drops fall, 

Tears of pity are cooling dew, 
And dear to the heart of our Lord are all 

Who suffer like Him in the good they do ! '^ 

Whittiek. 



THE LOUD CALL; 

OR, THE DISINTERESTED PARSON. 

There lived a Parson, as we're told, 
But when, or where, we know not, 
Who oft his snoring flock would scold, 

Threat'ning that they to heaven should go 
not, 

But rather down to hell be hurl'd, 
If they would not abjure the world, 
And count as dross its filthy mammon, gold. 

It chanced, at length, this goodly wight, 
Wlio stoutly fought the Christian fight, 

Elsewhere received a louder call : 
What though the stipend was a trifle more ? 
To one who placed in wealth so little store, 

This had tw weight you know^ at allj 
'Twas not the cash — oh ! no — 
But 'twas " the Lord commanded " — 



106 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

And though 'twas hard to go away, 
Should he refuse '' the Lord t' obey," 
And be a careless servant branded ? 
No, sure — so he must go. 

The parting Sabbath now arriv'd, 
And all his simple flock contriv'd 

To hear their priest's farewell : 
He ply'd them long in righteous strain. 
Bade them from darling sins refrain, 
And in sweet concord dwell ; 
To hate the world, in holy ways be bold. 
And shun the soul's seducer, glitfring gold. 
The service o'er, 
Before the door. 
The parish gentry gathered round : 

Smiling, the good man came among them, 
Seiz'd on their offer'd hands, and wrung 

them ; 
" A saint on earth ^^^ the grannies cried, 
They rolled their eyeballs up, and sigh'd. 
And dropp'd their farewell curtsies to the 
ground. 

Behind the rest, 
To bid the priest good-bye. 

In nature's sooty jacket drest, 
Old Caesar came — a wag, and mighty sly. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 107 

Bowing, the stick of ebony began 
A confab with the gold-despising man — 
" Ah ! how good massa parson do ? 

I hope he fine him very well." 
'' Well, Caesar, well, and how do you ? " 
" Ah ! massa, Caesar hardly tell ; 
Dis good long twenty year, 
Wid you he worship here, 
And now he sorry from you frock you go." 
'• Ah ! honest Caesar, yes, it must be so ; 

I'm sorry ^ too. 
That 1 am/orc'cZ away ; 

But then you know, 'twould never do, 
The ' Lord's loud call ' for me to disobey." 

" Who ? massa, who, you say ? 
De Lord call you away ? 
Massa, how many poun a year. 
Do people pays for preaching here ? " 
'' Two hundred " — '' toder place gib any 

more ? " 
'' Why — Caesar — yes, I think they offer four." 
'' Ah ! massa, may be 'tis the Lord who call, 
But don't you think more loud you let him 

bawl. 
Aye, call and call till all be blue. 
Fore you come back houi four to two ? 



108 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

De Lord he hollo till he dumb, 
Fore massa parson ebber come." 



Anon. 



WANTED — A MINISTER. 

We have been without a pastor. 

Some eighteen months or more ; 
And though candidates are plenty - 

We've had at least a score — 
All of them " tip-top " preachers, 

Or so their letters ran — 
We're just as far as ever 

Prom settling on the man. 

The first who came among us 

By no means was the worst, 
But then we didn't think of him, 

Because he was the first ; 
It being quite the custom 

To sacrifice a few, 
Before the church in earnest 

Determines what to do. 

There was a smart young fellow, 
With serious, earnest way, 

Who, but for one great blunder, 
Had surely won the day ; 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 109 

Wlio left so good impression, 

On Monday, one. or two. 
Went round among the people 

To see if he would do. 

The pious, godly portion 

Had not a fault to find ; 
His clear and searching preaching 

They thought the very kind. 
And all went smooth and pleasant, 

Until they heard the views 
Of some influential sinners 

Who rent the highest pews. 

On those his pungent dealing 

Made but a sorry hit ; 
The coat of gospel teaching 

Was quite too tight a fit. 
Of course his fate was settled — 

Attend ye parsons all ! 
And preach to please the sinners, 

If you would get a call. 

Next came a spruce young dandy — 

He wore his hair too long ; 
Another's coat was shabby, 

And his voice not over strong ; 



110 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

And one New Haven student 
Was worse than all of those — 

We couldn't heed the sermon 
For thinking of his nose ! 

Then wearying of candidates. 

We looked the country through, 
'Mid doctors and professors. 

To find one that would do ; 
And after much discussion 

On who should bear the ark, 
With tolerable agreement 

We fixed on Dr. Park. 

Here, then, we thought it settled, 

But were amazed to find 
Our flattering invitation 

Respectfully declined. 
We turned to Dr. Hopkins 

To help us in the lurch, 
Who strangely thought the college 

Had claims above our church. 

Next we dispatched committees, 
By twos and threes, to urge 

The labors for a Sabbath 

Of the Rev. Shallow Splurge. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. Ill 

He came — a marked sensation. 

So wonderful his style. 
Followed the creaking of his boots 

As he passed up the aisle. 

His tones were so affecting, 

His gestures so divine, 
A lady fainted in the hymn. 

Before the second line ; 
And on that day he gave us, 

In accents clear and loud. 
The greatest prayer ever addressed 

To an enlightened crowd. 

He preached a double sermon, 

And gave us angel's food, 
On such a lovely topic — 

" The Joys of Solitude ; " 
All full of sweet descriptions 

Of flowers and pearly streams, 
Of warbling birds, and moonlit groves, 

And golden sunset beams. 

Of Faitli and true Repentance, 

He nothing had to say ; 
He rounded all the corners, 

And smoothed the rugged way ; 
Managed with great adroitness 

To entertain and please, 



112 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

And leave the sinner^s conscience 
Completely at its ease. 

Six hundred is the salary 

We gave in former days ; 
We thought it very liberal, 

And found it hard to raise. 
But when we took the paper. 

We had no need to urge, 
To raise a cool two thousand 

For the Rev. Shallow Splurge. 

In vain were all the efforts — 

We had no chance at all — 
We found ten city churches 

Had given him a call ; 
And he, in prayerful waiting. 

Was keeping all in tow, 
But where they paid the highest, 

It was whispered he would go. 

And now, good Christian brethren, 

We ask your earnest prayers, 
That God would send a shepherd 

To guide our church affairs. 
With this clear understanding — 

A man, to meet our views. 
Must preach to please the sinners, 

And fill the vacant pews. 



Akok. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 113 



KATIE'S TREASURES. 

In the soft October sunshine, 

'Neath the forest's golden eaves, 
Roamed a merry band of maidens. 

In a crimson rain of leaves. 
But 'mid ringing bursts of laughter, 

Fluttering through the misty air, 
All their young hearts' cherished treasures 

Each with other did compare. 

" I dwell in a lordly mansion," 
Cried a pair of scarlet lips ; 
" In the carpet's tufted roses 

Deep my lightest footstep dips. 
Oh, the curtains, and the pictures ! 

But, more beautiful than all, 
You should see the western sunlight 
Creep along the painted wall." 

" Listen," quickly cried another, 

'• Listen now, I pray, to me, — 

Years ago there was a necklace 

Borne across the deep, blue sea ; 
In its velvet-cushioned casket, 

Stars could not so brightly shine ; 
But this chain of prisoned rainbows 

By and by will all be mine." 



114 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

" I have not such wondrous jewels," 

Proudly spoke another voice, 
"But I'd rather have ray father ^ 
If I had to take my choice. 
He has grown so very famous, — 

People almost kiss his hand, 
And, in time, I'm very certain 
He'll be ruler of the land." 

Thus ran on the eager voices. 

As they gayly had begun. 
Till some tale of wondrous treasure 
Every child had told, save one. 
" She will not have much to tell us," 

Whispered they, " poor little thing ! " 
Smiling spake the blue-eyed Katie, 
'' I'm the daughter of a king I " 

Then they laughed : " princess, tell us 

Where the king, your father dwells ; 
Do your mighty palace portals 

Swing at touch of golden bells ? " 
Meekly answered gentle Kate, 

Pushing back a floating curl, 
" All the shining wall is golden. 

Every gate a single pearl. 

^' And more glorious than the sunrise, 
Through the purple morning mist, 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 115 

Brightly glow the brave foundations, — 

Jasper, Sapphire, Amethyst; 
And within, — such wondrous treasures! 

Oh, what happiness to see ! 
But, when home my Father calls me. 

He will give them all to me." 

Then the little maids grew thoughtful, ^ 

And they looked with tender eyes, 
On the sweet-faced little Katie, 

Gazing upward to the skies. 
And they said, " happy princess ! 

Listening for the great King's call. 
You have found the greatest treasure. 

You are richest of us all." 

Sunday-School Speaker. 



CHRISTMAS HYMN. 

Calm on the listening ear of night 
Come Heaven's melodious strains, 

Where wild Judea stretches far 
Her silver-mantled plains ! 

Celestial choirs, from courts above. 

Shed sacred glories there. 
And angels^ with their sparkling lyres. 

Make music on the air. 



116 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

The answering hills of Palestine 

Send back the glad reply ; 
And greet, from all their holy heights, 
-The dayspring from on high. 

On the blue depths of Galilee 

There comes a holier calm. 
And Sharon waves, in solemn praise, 

Her silent groves of palm. 

" Glory to God ! " the sounding skies 
Loud with their anthems ring ; — 

Peace to the earth — good-will to men, 
From Heaven's Eternal King ! 

Light on thy hills, Jerusalem ! 

The Saviour now is born ! 
And bright on Bethlehem's joyous plains 

Breaks the first Christmas morn. 

E. H. Seaks. 



CHRIST AND THE LITTLE ONES. 

" The Master has come over Jordan," 
Said Hannah, the mother, one day ; 

'' He is healing the people who throng him, 
With a touch of his finger, they ^y. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 117 

" And now I shall cany the children, 
Little Rachel, and Samuel, and John ; 

I shall carry the baby, father, 
For the Lord to look upon." 

The father looked at her kindly. 
But he shook his head and smiled, 

'• Now who but a doting mother 
Would think of a thing so wild ! 

" If the children were tortured by demons, 
Or dying of fever — 'twere well — 

Or had they the taint of the leper, 
Like many in Israel — " 

" Nay, do not hinder me, Nathan, 

I feel such a burden of care, — 
If I carry it to the Master 

Perhaps I shall leave it there. 

" If he lay his hand on the children, 
My heart will be lighter, I know, 

For a blessing forever and ever 
Will follow them as they go." 

So over the hills of Judah, 

Along by the vine-rows green. 
With Esther asleep on her bosom. 

And Rachel her brothers between ; 



118 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Moiig the people who hung on his teaching, 
Or waited his touch and his word. 

Through the row of proud Pharisees listening, 
She pressed to the feet of the Lord. 

" Now why shouldst thou hinder the Master," 
Said Peter, " with children like these ? 

Seest not how from morning till evening 
He teacheth, and healeth disease ? " 

Then Christ said : " Forbid not the children, 
Permit them to come unto me ; " 

And he took in his arm little Esther, 
And Rachel he sat on his knee. 

And the heavy heart of the mother 

Was lifted all care above, 
As he laid his hands on the brothers. 

And blessed them with tenderest love ; 

As he said to the babes in his bosom, 

'' Of such are the kingdom of heaven ;^ — " 

What strength for all duty and trial, 
That hour to her spirit was given. 

Anon. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 119 



THE HEART'S SONG. 

In the silent midnight watches. 

List — thy bosom-door ! 
How it knocketh, knocketh, knocketh, 

Knocketh ever more ! 
Say not 'tis thy pulse's beating ; 

'Tis thy heart of sin ; 
'Tis thy Saviour knocks, and crieth 

Rise, and let me in ! 

Death comes down with reckless footstep, 

To the hall and hut ; 
Think you Death will stand a-knocking 

Where the door is shut ? 
Jesus waiteth — waiteth — waiteth ; 

But thy door is fast ! 
Grieved, away thy Saviour goeth : 

Death breaks in at last. 

Then 'tis thine to stand — entreating 

Christ to let thee in : 
At the gate of heaven beating. 

Wailing for thy sin. 
Nay, alas ! thou foolish virgin, 

Hast thou then forgot, 
Jesus waited long to know thee, 

But he knows thee not ? 

A. C. CoxE. 



120 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



JESUS OP NAZARETH PASSETH BY. 

Watcher, who wakest by the bed of pain, 
Wliile stars sweep on with their midnight train, 
Stifling the tear for thy loved one's sake, 
Holding thy breath lest his sleep should break, 
In thy loneliest hour there's a helper nigh, 
^' Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." 

Stranger afar from thy native land, 
Whom no man takes with a brother's hand, 
Table and hearthstones are glowing free. 
Casements are sparkling, but not for thee, 
There is one can tell of a home on high, 
" Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." 

Sad one, in secret bending low, [know, 

A dart in thy heart, that the world may not 
Wrestling the favor of God to win, 
The seal of pardon for days of sin, 
Press on, press on, with thy prayerful cry, 
"- Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." 

Mourner, who sitteth in church-yard lone. 
Scanning the lines on that marble stone. 
Plucking the weeds from thy children's bed. 
Planting the myrtle and rose instead. 
Look up from the tomb with thy tearful eye, 
" Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 121 

Fading one, with the hectic streak. 
In thy vein of fire and thy wasted cheek, 
Fear'st thou the shade of the darkened vale, 
Look to the guide who can never fail. 
He hath trod it Himself, He will hear thy cry, 
'' Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." 

Anon. 



COWPER'S GRAVE. 

It is a place where poets crowned 

May feel the heart's decaying — 
It is a place where happy saints 

May weep amid their praying — • 
Yet let the grief and humbleness. 

As low as silence, languish ; 
Earth surely now may give her calm 

To whom she gave her anguish. 

poets I from a maniac's tongue 

Was poured the deathless singing ! 
Christians ! at your cross of hope 

A hopeless hand was clinging ! 
O men ! this man in brotherhood. 

Your weary paths beguiling, 
Groaned inly while he taught you peace, 

And died while you were smiling. 



122 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

* * * * ^ « 

But while in blindness he remained 

Unconscious of the guiding, 
And things provided came without 

The sweet sense of providing, 
He testified this solemn truth. 

Though frenzy — desolated — 
JVor man nor nature satisfy^ 

Whom only Grod created! 

Like a sick child that knoweth not 

His mother while she blesses. 
And drops upon his burning brow 

The coolness of her kisses ; 
That turns his fever'd eyes around — 

'• My mother ! where's my mother ? '* 
As if such tender words and looks 

Could come from any other ! 

The fever gone, with leaps of heart 

He sees her bending o'er him ; 
Her face all pale from watchful love, 

The unweary love slie bore him ! 
Thus woke the poet from the dream 

His life's long fever gave him, 
Beneath those deep pathetic eyes. 

Which closed in death to save him. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 123 

Thus: oh, not thus ! no type of earth 

Could image that awaking, 
Wherein he scarcely heard the chant 

Of seraphs round him breaking — 
Or felt the new immortal throb 

Of soul from body parted ; 
But felt those eyes alone, and knew 

'' My Saviour ! not deserted ! " 

Deserted ! who hath dreamt that when 

The cross in darkness rested 
Upon the victim's hidden face. 

No love was manifested ? 
What frantic hands outstretched have e'er 

The atoning drops averted — 
What tears have washed them from the soul ~ 

That one should be deserted? 

Deserted ! God could separate 

From his own essence rather : 
And Adam's sins have swept between 

The righteous Son and Father ; 
Yea ! once Immanuel's orphaned cry 

His universe hath shaken — 
It went up single, echoless, 

" My God, I am forsaken ! " 

It went up from the Holy's lips 
Amid his lost creation, 



124 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

That of the lost, no son should use 

Those words of desolation ; 
That, earth's worst frenzies, marring hope, 

Should mar not hope's fruition ; 
And I, on Oowper's grave, should see 

His rapture, in a vision ! 

Mrs. Browking. 



GONE. 

Another hand is beckoning us, 

Another call is given ; 
And glows once more with angel steps 

The path which reaches heaven. 



We miss her in the place of prayer, 
And by the hearth-fire's light ; 

We pause beside her door to hear 
Once more her sweet " Good-night ! ' 

There seems a shadow on the day. 
Her smile no longer cheers ; 

A dimness on the stars of night. 
Like eyes that look through tears. 

Alone unto our Father's will 
One thoudit hatli reconciled — 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 125 

That he whose love exceedeth ours 
Has taken home his child. 

Fold her, Father, in thine arms ; 

And let her henceforth be 
A messenger of love between 

Our human hearts and thee. 

Still let her mild rebuking stand 

Between us and the wrong. 
And her dear memory serve to make 

Our faith in goodness strong. 

And grant that she, who, trembling here, 

Distrusted all her powers, 
May welcome to her holier home 

The well-beloved of ours. 

Whittier. 



RESIGNATION. 

There is no flock, however watched and tended, 

But one dead lamb is there ! 
There is no fireside, howso'er defended, 

But has one vacant chair ! 

The air is full of farewells to the dying, 
And mournings for the dead ; 



126 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

The heart of Kachel for her children crying 
Will not be comforted ! 

Let us be patient ! these severe afflictions 

Not from the ground arise, 
But oftentimes celestial benedictions 

Assume this dark disguise. 

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors ; 

Amid these earthly damps 
What seem to us but dim, funereal tapers, 

May be Heaven's distant lamps! 

There is no Death ! what seems so is transition ; 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian. 

Whose portal we call Death. 

She is not dead — the child of our affection — 

But gone unto that school. 
Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 

And Christ himself doth rule. 

In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion. 

By guardian angels led. 
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, 

She lives — whom we call dead. 

Day after day we think what she is doing 
In those bright realms of air ; 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 127 

Year after year her tender steps pursuing, 
Behold her grown more fair. 

Thus do we talk with her, and keep unbroken 
The bond which nature gives, [spoken, 

Thinking that our remembrance, though un- 
May reach her where she lives. 

Not as a child shall we again behold her; 

For when with raptures wild 
In our embraces we again enfold her, 

She will not be a child ; 

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, 

Clothed with celestial grace ; 
And beautiful with all the soul's expansion 

Shall we behold her face. 

And though at times, impetuous with emotion 
And anguish long suppressed, [ocenn, 

The swelling heart heaves moaning like the 
That cannot be at rest ; 

We will be patient ! and assuage the feeling 

We cannot wholly stay ; 
By silence sanctifying, not concealing. 

The grief that must have way. 

Longfellow. 



128 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



OVER THE RIVER. 

Over the river they beckon to me, — [side ; 

Loved ones who\e crossed to the farther 
The gleam of their snowy robes I see, [tide. 

But their voices are drowned in the rushing 
There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, 

And eyes the reflection of heaven's own blue ; 
He crossed in the twilight gray and cold. 

And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. 
We saw not the angel who met him there, 

The gates of the city we could not see ; 
Over the river, over the river. 

My brother stands waiting to welcome me. 

Over the river the boatman pale 

Carried another — the household pet : 
Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale — 

Darling Minnie, I see her yet ! 
She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands, 

And fearlessly entered the phantom bark ; 
We watched it glide from the silver sands. 

And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. 
We know she is safe on the farther side, 

Where all the ransomed and angels be ; 
Over the river, the mystic river, 

My childhood's idol is waiting for me." 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 129 

For none return from those quiet shores, 

Who pass with the boatman cold and pale ; 
We hear the dip of the golden oars, 

And catch a gleam of the snowy sail, — 
And lo ! they have passed from our yearning 
hearts ; 

They cross the stream arid are gone for aye. 
We may not sunder the veil apart 

That hides from our vision the gates of day ; 
We only know that their bark no more 

May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea ; 
Yet somewhere, I know, on this unseen shore. 

They watch, and beckon, and wait for me. 

And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold 

Is flushing river, and hill and shore, 
I shall one day stand by the water cold. 

And list for the sound of the boatman's oar ; 
I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail ; 

I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand ; 
I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale. 

To the better shore of the spirit land ; 
I shall know the loved who have gone before. 

And joyfully sweet will the meeting be, 
When over the river, the peaceful river, 

The Angel of Death shall carry me. 

Nancy A. W. Pbiest. 



PART II. 



Ittl^m^tlttf 



AN OPENING ADDRESS. 

FOR A 

SUNDAY-SCHOOL EXHIBITION. 

(jFor a hoy of twelve or thirteen,') 

First impressions are everything, they say ; 
and so they have put me on to speak first. I 
can't think of much to say, though. It's the 
way in which I say it that's everything with 
me, as with some other folks. Let's see — they 
told me to say that you're all welcome. Do 
you understand that ? Well, I'll add to that^ 
that the better you behave, the more welcome 
you'll be. We young folks have been dis- 
turbed before now by the old folks whispering 
and nestling round in their seats, and fussing 
with their finery. I hope I shall see nothing 
of that sort to-night. Children ! you are a 
special police force to keep order at this Sun- 
day-School Exhibition. I'll tell you how to 

133 



134 DECLAMATIONS. 

do it. Just set the old folks an example. 
They'll be glad enough to follow it. They 
always follow us children. Didn't my mother 
follow me, when she found me in the pantry 
with a piece of mince-pie in my hand ? I 
think she did ! ( With appropriate gesture.') 

And, little folks, just speak up loud and 
prompt, when you speak your pieces and re- 
cite your verses. What's the use of talking, 
if you can't be heard ? or if you talk a minute 
too late ? 

If you mind what I say, old folks and chil- 
dren (and of course you will,) I've no doubt 
we shall have the best exhibition of the season. 
We always do^ you know. 



A CLOSING ADDRESS 

FOR A 

SUNDAY-SCHOOL EXHIBITION. 

(For a hoy of twelve or thirteen.) 

" First impressions are everything," said 
the boy who spoke first ; but, really, last im- 
pressions are a good deal more important, and 
the Superintendent understood that^ when he 



/ 



DECLAMATIONS. 185 



kept his best wine till the last. He wants me 
to say that we're all very much obliged to you 
for coming here, and for your kind apprecia- 
tion of our efforts to please ; and I want to 
say for myself, (for I'm tired and sleepy) — 
Good-night. . » 

-ooo- -^ 

AN APPEAL FOR BENEFICENCE. 

QFor a small hoy^ 

The boy that spoke first to-night said you 
were all welcome. I shan't take it back. 
You are welcome. You're wdcome to see and 
hear; but you're just twice as welcome to 
give. We love to look at you, and we're 
tvilling you should look at us. We're glad to 
have you hear us ; but we want to hear you. 
You haven't any speeches ready ? All right ! 
We don't want to hear those. We can make 
those ourselves — as you've seen. What we 
do want to hear is the rustling of Greenbacks 
and the clinking of Silver, as the ushers pass 
the boxes round. That's a kind of music 
that we appreciate, for it gets us our library- 
books, our papers, our banners, and everything 
else that a Sunday-School needs ; and then its 



136 DECLAMATIONS. 

a kind of music that we can't make ourselves, 
and everybody prizes what he can't do him- 
self. We do our best now. This school has 
given dollars for benevolent objects, dur- 
ing the past year. Isn't such a school v/orth 
helping ? We mean to do better by-and-by, 
when we get hold of the money-bags. Just 
now, you must do the giving, and, to help you, 
I will ask the school to sing : '' Give, says the 

LITTLE STREAM." 

(Fresh Laurels^ p. 38.) 



WHEEE DOES ALL THE MONEY GO 
TO? 

(For a hoy of thirteen or fourteen.') 

" Where does all the money go to ? I'd 
like to know," says Mr. Skinflint. "Here I 
gave two dollars to this Sunday-School a year 
ago ; and now they're at me for another con- 
tribution." Well, Mr. Skinflint, I'll tell you, 
when you tell me where all the pins go to, 
and what becomes of the old sermons that 
have been preached till they can't be preached 
again, without copying. I suspect they're 



DECLAMATIONS. 137 

used up; and so much the better, say I. 
Somebody's got the job of making new ones 
and better ones. Your two dollars was gone 
long ago, neighbor Skinflint. It went the way 
of your last winter's wood-pile, or your yester- 
day's beef-steak. It did you good while it 
lasted ; but it couldn't last forever, you know. 
You want more wood and more beef, don't 
you ? Well, we want more money. What 
you gave us went into papers, perhaps, and it 
may be the Catholic parents of some of our 
children tucked them into the fire as soon as 
they got home. Or, perhaps it went into the 
library and bought us about a book and a half, 
which stand there to-day, all tattered and torn, 
and saying, as plainly as books can speak, 
" This school is out of money." So, neighbor 
Skinflint, please realize that two dollars isn't 
a life-subscription to a live Sunday-School 
like ours. 



AN APPEAL FOR SYMPATHY. 
(For a young lady.^ 

They have requested me to ask you to give 
us something. Don't button your pockets or 
knit your brows. It isn't money that we want. 



138 ' DECLAMATIONS. 

(Ah ! now you look more propitious ;) it's 
sympathy. To be sure, we do want money, 
and somebody else may say something about 
that, by-and-by ; but I say that we need your 
sympathy and the aid of your presence in the 
Sunday-School a great deal more. Here are 
these boys just sprouting into coat-tails, and 
these girls with slowly-lengthening dresses, 
who tell us that they can't stay in Sunday- 
School much longer — they're too old. What 
do you think about it, father and mother ? 
Are they too old ? '' Not a bit of it," you say. 
Well, are you too old to set them a good exam- 
ple ? Suppose you were teaching in the class be- 
side them, or learning in the class over in the 
corner, would they think of dropping out of 
Sunday-School ? Not a hit of it, say we. We 
warn you fairly, to-night, that Tommy and 
Jenny won't stay with us much longer, unless 
you give us your sympathy and help. 

And can't you give us your sympathy in a 
general way ? Here are lots of children who 
areu't your children ; but they're '' Somebody's 
children." We have a pretty hard time of it 
with the little " wharf-rats " and " alley birds." 
We need help — somebody to pray with us 
and pray for us — somebody to help us do the 
work that ignorant and vicious parents neg- 



DECLAMATIONS. 139 

lect. Christian friends, we call on you. 
Look in upon our Sunday-School once in a 
while, if you can do nothing more. Better 
still — enroll yourself as teacher or scholar ; 
take hold and work, and realize this — that 
we'd vastly rather get hold of a man's heart, 
than his pocket, though the pocket would 
follow the heart in due time, of course. 



A CALL FOR VOLUNTEERS. 

(For a small but sturdy hoy.^ 

I am the recruiting sergeant for this Sunday- 
School army. I want volunteers. No drafted 
men or substitutes taken. Our President has 
issued calls for : First, two hundred scholars 
to fill up the classes. None taken under five 
or over seventy-five. Race, sex, or condition 
in life of no account. '' Come one, come all," 
Chicago-fashion. 

Second, — Twenty teachers to teach the 
two hundred scholars. Must be Christians. 
Should have brains and heart. Will try ap- 
plicants for a while, and see if they fill the 
bill. 

N. B. All applicants must possess over- 
shoes and an umbrella, so that they can get 



140 DECLAMATIONS. 

out on stormy Sundays. None liable to 
" Sunday sickness " need apply. 

Third, — Ten rich men who haven't brains 
enough to teach but have heart enough to give 
fifty dollars apiece, year after year, to our 
Sunday-School. 

Now don't all speak at once. Those that 
apply first, shall have the first chance. 



I AM A LITTLE GIRL, YOU SEE. 

I am a little girl, you see, 

I'm only three feet high. 
But ma says I can speak a piece, 

If I will only try. 

I thought, indeed I told her so, 
You'd really think it queer, 

To see a little tiny child 
Attempt to stand up here. 

I wish, for fear that I should blush, 
You'd turn your eyes away, 

'Tis better not to look at me ; 
But just hear what I say. 

I love to come to Sunday-School, 
And say my lesson, too ; 



DECLAMATIONS. 141 

My teacher gives me pretty books, 
And tickets red and blue. 

She tells me that I must be good, 

I'm sure I mean to try, 
Because I want to go and live 

With Jesus, when I die. 

I want to hear his loving voice 

Say, " Little Mary, come ! ''' 
Oh ! let us all try to be good, 

And meet in heaven, our home. 

S. S. Celebration Book. 



«I AM A HAPPY LITTLE BOY." 

And I'm a happy little boy. 
From early morn till night 

I'm shouting, leaping all the time, 
In innocent delight. 

My little heart is just as full 

Of joy as it can be, 
For I have parents kind and good. 

Who always care for me. 

And then I know that I have, too, 

Up in the heaven so high, 
A holy Father who looks down 

On me with loving eye. 



142 DECLAMATIONS, 

And though I cannot see his face, 

I know he loves me well. 
And if I live for him on earth, 

In heaven I'll with him dwell. 

S. S. Celebration Book. 



ADDRESS OP WELCOME TO A NEW 
PASTOR. 

(^To he spoken ly a small girl.') 

Dear Pastor : 

We feel as if you couldn't be quite our 
pastor, unless we children had something to 
say about it. So now that the old folks have 
said their say, and the matter is all fixed, (as 
they think), we want to give you a call of our 
own. We call you, dear pastor, to the Sun- 
day-School, and bid you a hearty welcome to 
it. The riglit of working here just as hard 
as you please, and the privilege of taking your 
pay in cheerful glances and sunny smiles are 
freely yours. If you don't avail yourself of 
these rights and privileges, we shall be terribly 
disappointed in you ; for we think you love 
cliildren, and we children are all ready to love 
you — which we can't do, you know, unless 
you love us. We wish you could come into 



DECLAMATIONS. 143 

the Sunday-School every week, and go round 
from class to class, and just help us a little — 
if it's only by a pleasant look. But perhaps 
you'll be too tired after preaching. Well, we 
won't complain, if you don't come every Sun- 
day. But do come as often as you can ; and 
please let us feel everywhere and always that 
you are our pastor. It'll take you a good 
while, of course, to learn all our faces, so we 
boys and girls have put our heads together, 
and made up our minds that we'll bow to you 
when we meet you on the street, without wait- 
ing for you to recognize us. So just look out 
for your little parish, when school is let loose, 
and be sure and bow back, Mr. Pastor. Yes — 
you may stop and shake hands, if you want 
to ; if you don't, you needn't. We'll let you 
have a good many things all your own way, if 
we see that you really love us children ; 
and I'm sure we shall. 



144 DECLAMATIONS. 

ADDRESS OP WELCOME TO A NEW 
SUPERINTENDENT. 

(To he spohen hy a small hoy.') 

Dear Mr. Blank : 

It has been thought that somebody 
ought to bid you welcome to-day ; and that I 
am the man to do it. I am sure I do it most 
heartily ; for I know that you will make a tip- 
top Superintendent. I've had my eye on you, 
sir, for a good while. You've been here every 
Sunday, rain or shine, mud or no mud ; and 
you've had your scholar's heads clustered 
about yours like flies round a lump of sugar. 
What a fuss they made to-day, when it was 
announced that you were to be Superintend- 
ent ! But I just flung up my hat, and told 
'em we didn't want a man whom his class 
would just as soon give up as not. It takes a 
good teacher to make a good Superintendent, 
and we think we've got about the right thing 
in you. And so we mean to stand by you — 
we boys, and, of course, the girls will stand 
by us, and the old folks stand by the children 
always. So you see, you have the whole 
school to back you ; and if you don't make it 
the best school in the country, it's your own 
fault. We expect you will, and we mean to 
help you. 



DECLAMATIONS. 145 

ADDRESS OF WELCOME AFTER 
ABSENCE. 

(2b he spoken hy a young man,^ 
Dear Pastor : 

A The older members of your flock have 
already congratulated you on your safe return, 
with re-invigorated health, and fresh fruits of 
experience and observation. I do not think, 
dear pastor, that they have missed you any 
more than we, or that they rejoice any more 
truly than we, that you are with us once again. 
And so we, dear pastor, claim the same privi- 
lege which the older folks have had, and say : 
^' Welcome home ! " Welcome to a Sunday- 
School which hasn't seemed quite like itself 
while you were away. Welcome to your old 
habits of visiting, not the old folks only, but 
the young people and the little children, from 
house to house and from class to class. Wel- 
come to the privileges and responsibilities of 
your old office, and the honors of your old 
title : The Pastor who cares for the CHHi- 

DREN. 

But while we bid you welcome, we would 
also give you fresh assurances of our hearty 
cooperation in that work on which you are 
about to enter with fresh zeal and earnestness. 



146 DECLAMATIONS. 

How much that work is worth to us, and how 
much it must cost you, we have learned dur- 
ing your absence. We want, dear pastor, to 
work with you and work for you, and thus 
give you a solid " Welcome home." 



ADDRESS OF WELCOME AFTER ILL- 

NESS. 

(2b he spoken hy a young lady,^ 

Dear Mr. Blank : 

I feel as if I could hardly control my- 
self sufficiently to give expression to that joy 
and gratitude which we all feel in seeing you, 
once again, in your old place in the Sunday- 
School. You had made yourself so necessary 
to us, and had done so much to promote our 
happiness, that we all missed you very much 
during your illness. Indeed, we wondered, 
sometimes, how God could lay his hand on 
one who was so essential to the prosperity 
of our church and Sunday-School ; and yet we 
felt that God had some wise and loving pur- 
pose in thus afflicting you and us. So we tried 
to say : " Father, thy will be done," even while 
we prayed : " Give us back our dear Superin- 



DECLAMATIONS. 147 

tendent." We did pray for you, Mr. Blank, 
as we have not prayed in a long time ; and 
we feel that God has heard and answered our 
prayers. We mean to pray for you still, and 
we mean to pray that the dear God who has 
given us back our Superintendent, will give 
us again the influence of his Holy Spirit, so 
that we may see God as we have seen him in 
His sanctuary. When you hear us offering 
that prayer, and see us working together to 
secure an answer, you will realize that we are, 
indeed, glad to welcome again our spiritual 
leader and guide. 



ADDRESS OF WELCOME TO VISITING 
SUNDAY-SCHOOLS. 

(For the Superintendent or any teacher,^ 

Dear Brethren ; 

We bid you a hearty welcome to our 
village, our homes, and our church. We 
rejoice, indeed, to be reminded by your pres- 
ence that we are not fighting alone against 
vice and sin — that others hear with us the 
voice of the Captain of our Salvation, and are 
marshalled by our side, beneath his conquer- 
ing banner. We rejoice, too, that we can 



148 DECLAMATIONS. 

hardly fail to be the better both mentally and 
spiritually for the visit which you pay us. In 
the Sunday-School work, as in everything else, 
we are so apt to get into ruts — so apt to be- 
come hide-bound — that it is a real blessing to 
have an opportunity to compare methods of 
operation ; to learn at once, and to unlearn. 

We have not, dear brethren, much, if any- 
thing, to teach you. We '^ have a zeal of 
God " in this Sunday-School work, but we 
fear sometimes that it is "not according to 
knowledge" — so meagre are the results at- 
tained. We are willing, however, to submit 
our processes to your inspection. Possibly 
you may learn, even from us, something new. 
But we are far more willing to submit our- 
selves as learners to your larger experience 
and wider observation, and we expect to re- 
ceive ten times as much as we impart. 

That we may be blessed, however, either in 
receiving or imparting, we realize that there 
is necessary, (in addition to that fraternal 
spirit, of which we are already assured,) the 
presence and power of the Holy Spirit. We 
have felt that this want is too often ignored in 
our Sunday-School gatherings. Let us not, 
dear brethren, make this mistake to-day. In 
any event, you are welcome ; but you will be 



DECLAMATIONS. 149 

doubly welcome, should you bring with you 
the influence of the Highest ; or should your 
presence among us call down showers of 
gracious rain on this thirsty harvest-field. 
We feel confident that we are to have an in- 
tellectual feast to-day. May we not hope for 
a spiritual feast, through all these coming 
days, as the result of this gathering ? If so, 
our Sunday-School Convention will be the 
cause of devout thanksgiving to this church, 
and give fresh pasans to the very angels of 
God. 



ON THE DEATH OF A TEACHER. 

[To be recited at an annual festival, when a teacher has died 
during the preceding year. It can be altered to suit other 
occasions, by omitting or altering parts of it. If any one of 
the school should be very sick, and flowers be sent them, the 
last three verses may be used; otherwise, they must be 
omitted.] 

I. 

We are not all here ; there is more than one 
That I miss from our little band ; [cheer, 

I would they were here with their presence to 
And receive a warm grasp of the hand ; 

But some have wandered away from home, 
Though with us in spirit now, — 



150 DECLAMATIONS. 

We will think of them as the evening wanes, 
"With a thoughtful heart and brow. 

We are not all here ; there is one, we know, 
That has strayed from our earthly fold, — 
One voice is hushed that we used to hear. 

And the grass grows green o'er the quiet grave 
Where they laid her low in the mould. 

Perchance from her home in the unseen land. 

Where her spirit has taken flight, 
She is looking down on our little band 

As we meet this summer night ; 
We may not know, for our earthly sight 

Is dark, and doubtful, and drear, — 
But we will not part till in every heart 

There has risen a thought of her. 



11. 



We are not all here ; there is one that lies 

On a bed of sickness and pain, 
Bat we trust that the merciful Father of all 

Will raise him up again ; 

That the balmy breath of this summer day 
May kindle new light in his eye ; [way, 

And the Angel of Death, as he speeds on his 
May pass our dear friend by. 



DECLAMATIONS. 151 

But if to the land where is no more pain, 

His spirit shall wing its flight, 
Our grief will breathe an odor as sweet 

As the flowers we send him to-night. 

Sunday-School Speaker. 



PRESENTATION OP A VASE OF 
ROSES. 

[To be recited by one of three little girls, who advance together 
to the Pastor, bearing the gift.] 

" Dear pastor, from our grateful hands 

A simple token take, — 
This little vase of summer flowers, — 

Oh, prize it for our sake ! 

" And let it say to you each day, 

Better than words may tell, 
The reverent love we feel for Him, 

Who loves the children well. 

" Oh, be our guide through years to come. 

And lead our willing feet 
Along the road whose windings end 

Where all God's children meet." 

S. S. Gazette. 



152 DECLAMATIONS. 

A PRESENTATION ADDRESS TO A 
PASTOR. 

(For a young lady^ 

Dear Pastor : 

We feel that this season of gifts and 
congratulations ought not to pass without 
some token, however slight, of the estimation 
in which you are held by your Sunday-School. 
You know, already, that we love you ; but we 
want to put our love, if possible, in tangible 
form. And so, to-night, we tender you this 

. We have tried to select something 

which shall be attractive, useful, and, above 
sll^ personal — something for you ^ and not for 
your good wife, whom we love as dearly as 
you, but to whom we are not making a present 
just now. We ask you to accept it and prize 
it, not for its intrinsic value, but as a token of 
our love — as a memento of those whom you 
have lead to Christ, and who will ever remem- 
ber you as their Pastor of Pastors — as a 
slight recognition of the weary hours spent by 
you in the sick-chamber and by the dying-bed. 
You needn't make a speech, dear Pastor. 
We know already what you would say ; and, 
if you had not spoken already in those actions 



DECLAMATIONS. 153 

which " speak louder than words," and thus 
proved yourself the Young People's Pastor, be 
assured we discriminating young folks should 
never have dreamed of making you a present. 



A PRESENTATION ADDRESS TO A 
SUPERINTENDENT. 

(For a young man^ 

Mr. Superintendent : 

We young folks think we know a live 
man when we see him. Moreover, we think 
•that a live man is worthy of all honor. Still 
further we think that we have found our live 
man in you. During the past year, you have 
been at the head of our Sunday-School, and 
we can't see that the Sunday-School is any 
the worse for it. Indeed, we can hardly con- 
ceive where the Sunday-School would have 
been, but for you. What with these unruly 
boys here and the unruly men and women, 
yonder in the audience room, who think that 
the Sunday-School is of no particular account, 
you have had a pretty hard time of it ; but 
pluck and grit and tlie Grace of God have 
carried you through, and the Sunday-School 



154 DECLAMATIONS. 

still lives and means to live. For its free and 
generous life we are largely indebted to you ; 
and, as a token of our recognition of that fact, 

permit me to present you this . Its 

, intrinsic value is not great — not half what we 

I wish it was ; but if it serve to remind you in 

after years that when you were Superintendent 

of the Sunday-School, we all loved 

you, it will answer the purpose for which we 
procured it. 



A PRESENTATION ADDRESS TO A 
TEACHER. 

Dear Teacher : 

Your class desire to-day two things : 
Publicly, to acknowledge their appreciation of 
the faithful service which you have rendered 
them. 

Privately, to remind you, by some tangible 
expression of their good will, of the love you 
have won from every heart. 

They wish me, therefore, to tender you this 

, asking you to associate it forever with 

the names and faces of the donors. We are 
sure you will ; for many of those who give it 
you have been led by you to Christ, and must 



DECLAMATIONS. 155 

be grouped around you at the last great day — 
just as they are here in this Sunday-School — 
when you say : " Lord, here am I, and the chil- 
dren whom thou hast given me." 



THERE IS A TEETOTALER. 

(This piece should be spoken by a spirited boy, and as he goes 
upon the stage, some one should cry out, "There's a tee- 
totaler!") 

Yes, sir, here is a teetotaler, from the crown 
of his head to the tips of his toes. I've got on 
teetotal boots, too, that never will walk in the 
way of a drunkard. The other day a man 
asked me about our Band of Hope. He 
wanted to know what use there is in making 
so many promises. I told him the use was in 
keeping the promises more than in making 
them. 

The boys which belong to our Band have 
something to do besides loafing at the corners 
of the streets^ and smoking the stumps of 
cigars they pick out of the gutters. It makes 
me sick to think of it 1 

Some boys are ;d.rea4&iiiy .afraid of losing 
their libertj, so they won't sign our pledge. 
I mw four pr five of them the other day. 



156 DECLAMATIONS. 

They had been off, somewhere, having what 
they call a jolly time ; and they were so drunk 
they couldn't walk straight. They lifted their 
feet higher than a sober boy would to go up- 
stairs, and I watched them till one fell down 
and bumped his nose. Thinks 1 to 'myself, 
there's liberty for you, but it's just such liberty 
as I don't want. I would rather walk straight 
.than crooked, I would rather stand up than 
fall down, and I would rather go to a party 
with my sisters, and some other pretty girls, 
than hide away with a lot of rough fellows, 
to guzzle beer and whisky. 

There are plenty of other reasons why I am 
a teetotaler. When I grow up, I would rather 
be a man^ than a walking wine-cask or rum- 
barrel ; I would rather live in a good house 
than a foor one, and I would rather be loved 
and respected than despised and hated. 

Now, if these are not reasons enough for 
being a teetotaler, I will give you some more 
the next time we meet. 

Anniversary Gems. 



DECLAMATIONS. 157 



TAKE UP THE COLLECTION. 

Little Boy on a chair. 

Ladies and Gentlemen: — 

1 am small, it is true, but great on the stump, 

And I think that the managers knew it ; 
For they have a difBcult work to do, 

And I've been selected to do it. 

You may talk to the Head and carry your 
point, 

May appeal to the Heart and succeed ; 
But to speak to the Pocket and make it respond 

Is a difficult work indeed. 

Some speak for applause, and only applause. 
And get what they work for (the scamps) ; 

While I care for neither the clapping or cheers, 
But I hope you'll come down with the Stamps. 

We've a load on our back youi3an lighten, if 
You will add to the backs that bear it ; 

It's greenbacks we ask — you'll please give us 
one, 
If able and willing to spare it. 

We KNOW that you will, for we've watched you 
to-night, 



158 DECLAMATIONS. 

While you listened to speech and to song ; 
And knew, by the good-natured look of your 
face, 
You were anxious to help us along. 

Good-night, I retire ; to this I feel sure 
That you've not the slightest objection ; 

So I will get DOWN ; the Committee get up, 
And WHEN UP will take up the collection. 

Anniyebsaby Gems. 



PART III, 



THE STRAY LAMB. 

For three girls. 

Lillie^ (holding a miniature lamb'), " This 
is a little lamb, and there are little lambs that 
skip about the fields ; but I am the most 
precious little lamb of them all." 

MarT/ (an older child). " Why, sister, you 
are not a little lamb at all. 

Lillie. Yes, I am, the Bible says so. 

Mary. Where ? 

L. " Peed my lambs." And then it tells 
somewhere besides, about the Lord's gathering 
little children in his bosom. 

M. But, that is not saying they are lambs. 

L. Well, any how, that is the way the 
shepherds do with their little lambs, when any 
of them are cold, or can't walk. 

M. But you are not cold, and you can 
walk. 

L. Well, now, I don't care, I am the 
Saviour's little lamb. 

161 



162 DIALOGUES. 

Sarah (a larger girl,^ Yes, darling sister, 
you ai^e the Saviour's precious lamb. Do you 
not remember the beautiful Psalm, '' The Lord 
is my Shepherd, I shall not want, He maketh 
me to lie down in the green pastures ; he 
leadeth me beside the still waters." Come sit 
on my knee, and let me tell you a dear little 
story about a lamb. He had the nicest pas- 
ture ; he ran about among the grass, and 
nipped the tender blades, and was so glad and 
happy. But one day, as he was walking along 
the hedge that fenced in his lovely pasture, he 
saw a little hole in it. He thought I can creep 
through that. So first he put his nose through, 
then he pushed his body in. Oh, how the 
briars scratched him and tore his fleece off. 
But after a while he got through. Do you 
think he was happy then ? 

L. No, not a bit. 

Sarah, No, he was not ; he got lost and 
went bleating about, and looked so sorry and 
forlorn. 

i. Pool' little lamb ! 

S, Does Lillie know she is like that poor 
little lamb ? 

L, "Why, sister Sarah ! How ? 

S. Lillie has wandered away from the 
gentle Shepherd. Doesn't she remember she 



DIALOGUES. 163 

did wrong to-day, and felt so unhappy ? 
QLillie begins to cry.^ 

M, Then Lillie isn't the Saviour's lamb, is 
she ? 

aS'. Did not that stray lamb belong to the 
Shepherd, and was not its true home in the 
pleasant pasture, just as much after it had 
strayed, as when it was there ? 

31. Why, yes — but — Oh, yes! but did 
the Shepherd go to look for it and bring it 
back ? 

S, He had a kind of a call that all his sheep 
and lambs had learned to know ; so he went 
to the edge of the hedge and called several 
times in the day. Has not the Saviour a voice 
with which he calls his little lambs ? Did not 
my little Lillie hear a gentle voice to-day, tell- 
ing her, " Come back, little Lillie ; do what is 
right ? " 

L. Yes, sister Sarah, but I was naughty, 
and would not listen. 

S. So was that little lamb naughty. He 
heard the Shepherd call, but would not listen. 
On he went, gamboling over the uneven 
ground, and the Shepherd had to send a man 
after him to bring him back. He found him 
in a very dangerous place, too. 

L. (looking downcast.^ And I would not 



164 DIALOGUES. 

do right until you came to me and talked with 
me. Oh, wasnH I naughty ! 

S. I hope the good Shepherd has forgiven 
my little sister. 

L. (hrightening,^ Oh, yes, I asked him to, 
and I think he has. 

S, Well, be careful not to stray away from 
the fold, for some stray away so far they never 
get back. 

(^Sarah kisses her two little sisters^ and they 

leave.^ 

S. S. Celebration Book. 



HOW TO LEAD A CHILD TO GOD. 
A dialogue for two girls and one little boy. 

This scene is supposed to occur in the nursery. The young lady 
representing the mother is seated beside a small work stand, 
sewing. 

Enter, at one side of the platform, the sister and brother, while 
the mother is singing. The sister puts her little brother's 
shoes on his feet, then brushes his hair and arranges his 
apron. He manifests impatience. 

Sister, There, now you begin to look like^ 
yourself. 

Little hoy. I want my breakfast. 

Sister. Well, be patient; we'll soon be 
ready. 



DIALOGUES. 165 

Little Boy, I'm ready now. 

Sister. No, I guess not. You forget one 
thing. 

Little Boy, What is it ? 

Sister, Your prayers, brother. 

Little Boy, I don't want to say my prayers. 

Sister, Why, brother, that's naughty ! 
You must say your prayers, like a good boy . 

Little Boy, I won't say my prayers — I 
want my breakfast. 

Sister, What will mother say ? How can 
you give her your morning kiss ? 

Little Boy, {Louder,^ I won't say my 
prayers ! I won't say my prayers ! 

Sister. Those are very bad words, brother. 
But go to your mother. 

(The little boy moves towards his mother, followed by his sister. 
He pauses a moment.) 

Little Boy, Mother ! (^She looks up^ with a 
smile,') 

Mother. Good-morning, my son ! 

Little Boy, I'm going to my breakfast. 

Mother, Stop a moment. I want you to 
come here and kiss me, first. 

(The mother places her work on the stand ; the boy nms to her, 
throws his arms around her neck, and kisses her.) 

Mother. Are you pretty well, this morning ? 
Little Boy, Yes, mother ; I'm very well. 



166 . DIALOGUES. 

Mother. I'm glad you are. 

Little Boy. Are you well, mother ? 

Mother. Yes, my son ; and when I awoke 
this morning, and found that I was well, I 
thanked God for taking care of me. 

Little Boy. Did you ? 

Mother. Yes. I felt that he deserved my 
praise. 

(He rests his head upon her shoulder — conscience is at work.) 

Mother. (^After a moment^s silence.^ Did 
you ever feel my pulse ? 

Little Boy. No, but I've felt mine. 

Mother. . Well, feel mine now Qplacing his 
finger on her wrist^. How it goes, beating! 
Do you feel it ? 

Little Boy. Yes. (^Slowly pronounced.^ 

Mother. If it should stop beating, I should 
die. 

Little Boy. Would you ? 

Mother. Yes ; and I can't keep it beating. 

Little Boy. Can't you ? 

Mother. No, my dear. 

Little Boy. Who can ? 

Mother. God ! and — no — one — else ! 

(A short silence ensues. ) 

Mother. You have a pulse, too, which beats 
in your bosom, and in your arms, and all over 
you. It is the throbbing of your heart. 



DIALOGUES. 167 

Every time the heart throbs it looks to God, 
and seems to ask Him, " Shall I beat again ? " 
Nobody but God can keep it beating. If He 
should not take care of you, who could ? 

Little Boy. I don't know. 

Mother, So, when I awoke this morning, I 
thought I would ask God to take care of me. 
I hope He will take care of me, and of us 
all. 

Little Boy. Did you ask Him to take care 
of me? 

Mother. Of you, by name ? No ! 

Little Boy. Why not ? 

Mother. Because I thought you would ask 
Him yourself, as I have taught you to do. 
God likes to have us all ask for ourselves. 

(Another pause ensues. The little boy bursts into tears, and 
hides his face in his mother's lap.) 

Mother. Don't you think you had better 
ask Him for yourself ? 

Little Boy. Yes, mother ! 

(He kneels at his mother's feet, and repeats the Lord's Prayer, 
in a clear, distinct voice; after which mother, sister and 
brother unite in singing. 

AimiVERSARY Speaker. 



168 DIALOGUES. 

TEMPTATION RESISTED. 

CHARACTERS. 

John. William. Richard. 

(John seated with an open book before him.) 

Jolin^ (looking up from a book^ and speaking 
as if reciting a lesson,^ " A conjunction con- 
nects the words or sentences between which it 
stands." " Rule fifteenth." (Looks on book.} 
Oh no ! it's Rule fourteenth. Oh, I never can 
get these rules right ! How I do hate gram- 
mar ! If I could only stay away from school 
on the days when we have grammar, I wouldn't 
care one pin for the other days. " Rule four- 
teen ^ a conjunction connects the words and 
sentences between which it stands." [^Looks 
on book."] " The principal conjunctions are, 
neither, nor, either, or, whether, though, yet, 
if, then, both, and, not, only, but, also, as, so, 
that." ILooks off book,'] '' The principal 
conjunctions are, neither, nor, or, whether, 

very, well " No ; those are adverbs. 

Oh, I shall never learn it ; I wish Tuesday 
and Friday were holidays. 

Enter William. 

William^ (in a low tone.') John! whist! 
John! 



DIALOGUES. 169 

John^ (loohing round. ^ Hullo! 

William, Hush! don't holler that way. 
Anybody round ? 

John. Why, what's the mystery ? 

William. See here, John, I'm going off 
skating, and I want you to come, too. 

John. Oh, that's too bad ! Mother's just 
gone to market, and father's off to the store 
an hour ago. There is nobody to give me a 
holiday. 

William. Oh come along! the frost last 
night will make the ice splendid. 

John. Did your father say you might go ? 

William. I didn't ask him. 

John. Who gave you permission to go ? 

William. Nobody. Mother said I could go 
Saturday. Saturday, indeed ! and it may be 
as warm as Fourth of July before then. 

John^ (smiling.^ Hardly probable. 

William. Well, warm enough to spoil the 
skating, any how. Come along, won't you ? 
The ice is perfectly splendid. Have you 
skates ? 

John. Yes ; a new pair uncle sent me at 
Christmas. I've never had a chance to try 
them yet. 

William. Well, now's your chance ! 

John. Oh, father won't let me go, I am 



170 DIALOGUES. 

sure, even if I had time to go to the store and 
ask him. 

William. Go without asking him. 

John, He would be very angry. 

William, He would never know. 

JoTtn, But if he were to ask me ? 

William, Oh, you can slide round it, some- 
how. 

J. Tell father a lie ? 

W, There is no use calling things by such 
rough names. You could easily evade the 
question. 

J, A lie is intentional deception, so in this 
case, evasion would be a lie, as much as a 
directly false statement. 

W, Oh, pshaw ! a little fibbing don't hurt 
anybody. 

J, It would hurt me ! The Bible makes a 
liar as great a sinner as a murderer or thief. 

W, Oh, come along, John. You can 
finish your sermon as we walk down to the 
pond. It is such a splendid day, and it is ten 
chances to one your father never asks you 
anything about being at school. 

J. (aside.^ And I don't half know that 
grammar lesson. 

W, Come ! 

J. Is the ice very good, Will ? 



DIALOGUES. 171 

W, Smooth as glass, and firm as the 
ground. 

J". It is a splendid day. 

TF. Magnificent ! 

J, I never played truant in my life. 

W. Oh, nonsense ! All work and no play 
makes Jack a dull boy. 

J, But I don't have all work. Father 
never denies us any pleasure we want in holi- 
day-time, and there are Saturdays, and re- 
cess, and oh, lots of time out of school! 

TF. But to-day is just made for skating ! 

J. There will be other days. I guess I'll 
wait until Saturday, Will. 

TF". But it will be so stupid to go alone. 

J. Then wait too. 

W. And have the ice all gone ? It is 
getting late, and we have had such a mild 
winter, that there's been scarcely any skating 
since Christmas. 

J", (^sighing *^ I know it ! 

Tf. And you'll outgrow your new skates, 
perhaps, before another winter. 

J. (sighing again?) Very likely ! 

TT. And it's grammar day, too, and you 
hate grammar. 

J, I do just hate it ! 

F. With an awful page of parsing from 
Paradise Lost. 



172 DIALOGUES. 

' J". Oh, Will, horrible ! 

W. So come along, that's a good fellow. 

J. (hesitating.} I wonder if father ever 
would find it out ? 

W. Never. He won't bother about to-day, 
of all days in the year. 

J. I've half a mind to risk it. (^Groes 
slowly towards the door,') Wait till I get my 
skates. 

W. Hurry up, then ! 

J", (^standing irresolute near the door,) I — 
I — ^Suddenly returning^) I won't go ! 

W. ^sneering,) Afraid ! 

J, Yes ; I am afraid to make myself feel 
like a sneak ! I am afraid to know that I am 
deceiving and disobeying the kindest and best 
father in the world ! I am afraid to print the 
word truant on my conscience ; with liar^ 
perhaps, to keep it company ! I am afraid to 
say my prayers to-night, knowing I have a 
willful sin upon my conscience. Yes, William, 
\ am afraid to go ! 

W. (angrily,) Stay then ! No thanks to 
you for keeping me an hour, making up your 
mind ! [ Croes out,'] 

J. William ! William ! Don't go off angry, 
there's a good fellow ! He don't hear me. 
Heigho ! What a splendid time he will have ! 



DIALOGUES. 173 

But this won't learn my grammar lesson. 
\_Sits down to study, 1^ 

Enter Richard. 

Richard. Eeady for school, John ? 

J. (without looking up.^ Almost ! 

jB. (aside,^ Oh, if he would only hurry ! 
Father won't allow us to interrupt study, unless* 
there is a positive necessity for it. [Fidgets 
about the room^ looking at the hooks^ drumming 
on the window and whistling r\ 

J. Do be still, Dick, like a good fellow, or 
I'll never get these conjunctions into my head. 

jB. (aside,} There soon will be a positive 
necessity for it. If I don't tell him, I'll burst ! 

J, (closing book with a snap.} There ! I 
know that perfectly at last. 

H, John ! I've got something splendid to 
tell you. Mother's just come in, and she met 
uncle in the street, on his way here to take us 
to try our new skates at Mill Creek. 

J. Splendid! Now? 

H. No ; he is to call for us at school, at 
twelve o'clock, and we are to have a half- 
holiday. 

J. Oh, Dick, if I had not been to school ! 

M. Why, what should keep you away ? 

J, I'll tell you as we walk along. 

M. Cousin George is going too ; that will 



174 DIALOGUES. 

just fill the carryall, and Aunt Jane is going 
to send our dinner in a basket. Get your 
skates, now, John, for we are none too early to 
^ start for school. 

J, I am ready. Come ! {A%ide^ What a 
lesson ! I will tell Dick as we walk along. 
\Both go out^ 

Frost's Dialogues for Young Folks. 



THE BOOK OF THANKS. 

Albert. There, I feel so vexed and out of 
patience with Ben, that I really must — 

Clara, Do something to injure him ? 

A, Oh, no : that is not what I was going to 
say, — but that I must look over my "Book 
of Thanks." 

O. Book of Thanks ! what sort of a book 

is that I would like to know ? 

A, Here it is [taking a small hook from his 
pocket'] , and I will read some from it if you 
would like to have me. 

Q, I certainly should. Please read. 

A, "March 8th Ben lent me his new 

hat." " When I lost my shilling Ben found it 
forme." "June 30th. — Ben invited me to 
go and eat some cherries in his father's garr- 



DIALOGUES. 175 

den." So, after all, Ben is a pretty good boy. 

(7. Why, Albert, what do you write in your 
book ? 

A, All the acts of kindness that are ever 
shown me, — and you would wonder how 
many there are. I find much good from writ- 
ing them down. I do not forget them as I 
might do if I only trusted to my memory ; so 
I hope I am not often ungrateful ; and when I 
am cross, or out of temper, I almost always 
feel pleasant again if I only look over my 
book. 

0. I wonder what sort of things you put 
down. Will you let me see it, Albert ? 

A, Certainly, Clara. ^ [Passing the hooh'], 

O, [Takes it and reads. ~\ '' Amos Kindly 
asked me to spend the day with him, and did 
all he could to make my visit pleasant." 

" Mrs. Day gave me some nice peaches." 

" Freddie Churchill asked after me when I 
was sick, and came to see me when I was 
getting better." 

And I see you put '' father and mother " at 
the top of every page. Why is that, Albert ? 

A. Oh, they are so good to me, and do so 
much for me, that I cannot put it all down, 
and so I just write their names to remind me" 
of their constant care and goodness. I know 



176 DIALOGUES. 

1 1 that I can never repay them. Eead what I 

have put at the beginning of the book. 

C. {Beads,^ " Every good gift is from 
above." 

A, That is to remind me that I owe thanks 
to God for all the blessings 1 enjoy. 

0. Well, Albert, I am much pleased with 
your book and its object. I will ask my 
mother to get a blank-book for me, and then I 
will keep a " Book of Thanks," too. 

S. S. Speaker. 



ON EXAGGERATION. 

(Harry conies limping on the stage.) 

William. Why, Harry, what's the matter? 

Harry. Oh, I've broken my toe oif, I be- 
lieve ! 

W. I'm very sorry ; but what is that you 
have in your hand ? 

H. An apple ; the largest apple I ever saw ! 

W. It is large, but I think I've seen as 
large ones before. 

H. Oh, Will ! if you had seen some of the 
apples at Uncle's this summer ; they were, 
well, I guess so large — (measuring with his 
hands,^ 



DIALOGUES. 177 

W. Monstrous ! why didn't you say as 
large as the moon. 

H. Oh, I had a glorious time there. Will. 
Uncle lives away out in the country, and it 
takes forever to get there ; but I tell you it 
pays to go. 

W. Why, I don't see what time for enjoy- 
ment one can have there, if it takes forever to 
reach the place. 

IT. Well, not that exactly, but I rode three 
hours in a stage, and was just tired to death. 

W. I shouldn't think that paid very well. 
But what did you do there ? 

S. Oh, I did every thing you can imagine. 

W. What ! did you walk a tight rope to 
the moon ? 

H. Ridiculous ! no. 

W. Why, I can imagine that, I am sure. 

ff. Well, I didn't do that exactly, but I 
did everything else. 

W. Tell us what. 

Jff, Well, Uncle has a horse, the most 
magnificent fellow in the world — so large, I 
guess he's nine feet high ! I used to ride him 
all the time. 

W, My ! I never heard of such a horse. 

jET. Then he has another, a little, wee pony, 
only so high — (measuring with his hand.^ I 
rode him, too. 



178 DIALOGUES. 

W. I thought you said you rode the other 
all the time. 

IT. Well, not -that exactly, but I rode him 
two or three times. Then we went fishing a 
great deal. Oh, the biggest fish we caught ! 

W. Did you catch a whale ? 

It, Pshaw, no. But I just wish you could 
have seen one perch that I caught ; oh, it was 
that long — (^showing how long.} 

W. Well, " Uncle's " must be a wonderful 
place. 

H, It is, I tell you. But Will, they have 
a grand fish pond in their garden — oh, it is 
immense ! 

TT. How long ? Long as Lake Erie ? 

H, Oh no. The garden is not larger than 
this church. 

W. Do you call that immense ? 

H. Well, not that exactly, but it is very 
large. 

W. Did you read any while you were there. 

H. Oh yes. Uncle has a splendid library. 
I read all the time. 

W. What did you read ? 

H. Oh, I can't remember. Piles of books; 
one " Glen-Morris' story," one " Whispers for 
Boys," ''Household Words," — well, — I guess 
that was all. 



DIALOGUES. 179 

W. Not a very large pile after all. By 
the way, how is your toe that was hroken off? 
It has recovered remarkably soon, I think. 

H. Well, I did hurt it. But Will, you 
must go up there with me some time. We 
will have some of the grandest fun you ever 
heard of — tear the old house to pieces before 
we get through. 

QEnter Charles.^ 

Charles, Stop, Harry. I think you had 
better find out whether uncle is willing before 
you invite company to engage in such furious 
assaults upon his property. I've been lis- 
tening to the account you have been giving 
Will of our visit in the country, and I must 
say I have hardly known whether to be amused 
or grieved. 

H. Why, what's the matter ? 

(7. I wish you could have listened as I did, 
to your own stories. How would it sound to 
you to hear me tell of a horse nine feet high, 
another about two feet, and that I rode one all 
the time, and the other all the time, too ? 
There must be some property bestowed upon 
you, not common to mortals. 

H, Well, Charley, you know I did not 
mean that exactly. 



180 DIALOGUES. 

0. Then what would uncle think if he 
should hear his fish pond called '^ immense/' 
when it is only three or four feet in diameter, 
and contains only a few gold fish ? As to the 
fisli we caught in the lake, I suppose they 
were about the usual size. I guess if Will 
should accept your invitation, he would be a 
little disappointed when he saw the reality. 

H. Well, Charley, I'm sure I didn't mean 
to tell any falsehoods. 

O. I know, Harry, you would not tell an 
intentional untruth for the world, but indeed, 
this habit of exaggeration leads you very near 
it. 

H, I expect it is wrong, but to save me I 
cannot help it. 

(7. That is another exaggeration. To save 
yourself from death or danger you could and 
would, I'm very sure, and to save yourself I'm 
sure you must. 

H. I forget when I'm talking. I declare, 
sometimes I do try, but the words come out 
before I think. 

Q, The Bible says we must set a guard at 
the door of our lips. Seriously, brother Har- 
ry, I think you ought to try very hard to over- 
come this habit, and ask Divine grace to help 
you. You mean no harm, and yet you do 



1 



DIALOGUES. 181 

harm. The Saviour once said, "Let your 
communication be yea, yea, and nay, nay, for 
whatsoever is more than this cometh of evil." 
He may not have referred directly to this, but 
I think the words will apply well in this case. 
H, Well, Charley, you take a serious view 
of the matter ; perhaps you are right. At any 
rate, I will try to remember to guard my 
speech hereafter. Though I expect I shall 
" shed barrels and barrels of tears " over my 
fault before it is mended. 

S. S. Celebration Book. 



BIG AND LITTLE. 

Tommy. 'Taint any use trying, Dave. My 
big kite won't go up. I've tried it fifty times. 
It is ten feet high and six feet wide, and seems 
to me the thing wants forty feet of tail ! 

David, Why do you try to make it so 
large ? I'd rather have a little kite that will 
go^ than a hig one that wonH. 

T. Why? why? Can't you see? Who 
wants to be one of the common fry, with 
things just like other folks ? Baby Smith and 
Shorty Jones, and the whole tribe of little 



182 DIALOGUES. 

fellows in town have got 'em all just alike — 
cut by the same pattern ; just so much string 
and so much tail, so long and so wide, (^suit 
the action to the words ;) and all one color. I 
want something original, J do ! / don't sail 
in your common scow. I'll paddle my own 
canoe, and a big one at that ! 

J). Just so ! But don't their kites sail ? 
Can't they put them up ? 

T. Of course they can. Anybody can 
make one of them common things go up, 
wind or no wind. But I'll make 'em stare 
when I get my ten-footer started once ; just let 
me get it up, and then look out for the loco- 
motive when the whistle blows. Why half-a- 
dozen boys can swing on the cord at once ! 

D. Just so ! when you get it up. But who 
is going to hold it for you when it is up. 
Your big locomotive kite will run away with 
you — lift you right off your feet in a twink- 
ling. Those little ones you have been sneer- 
ing at are all you can hang on to. Who is 
going to manage your ten-footer, Tommy ? 

T. 1 am, greeny ! But I don't bother 
about that. Any how, I've got the biggest 
kite in town, if it don't go, and that's some- 
thing, ain't it ? 

D. Just so! You've built a great, un- 



DIALOGUES. 183 

gainly thing, that goes up as high as you poke 
it, with its tail dragging on the ground. 
'Taint a kite after all your fuss, for a kite 
flies! and while you've been bothering and 
stewing over this " big thing," I've had my 
" sky-scraper " up a dozen times. I say you've 
spread yourself out too big — you've got too 
many eggs in your nest to bring out many 
chickens. 

T. Too big ! too big ! There ain't anything 
too big. 'Tis your little things I despise. I'm 
never going to do a little thing in my life — 
I'll crowd it full of big things. I am going 
to astonish the people with something worth 
looking at, or nothing ! 

D, Just so ! But more frequently the lat- 
ter, I suppose. It's my notion that your big 
things have got to grow out of little ones. 

T, You're smart, you are ! If I want a 
big kite I've got to make a little one, and then 
plant it, and let it grow, eh ? 

D. Just so ! You must first try the little 
ones, till you get hold of the whole idea of a 
kite, and then you can mount your Great 
Eastern, perhaps ! 

T, Hang your little kite ! I never made 
one, and never will. I've got a soul above 
little mean things. 



184 DIALOGUES. 

D. Just so! I hope you are above mean 
things. But that's just the idea I want to 
pound into your dull head. Little things ain't 
mean things, I can tell you. 

T, Don't see it ! Who wants to splutter 
over little things ? Nobody sees 'em — no- 
body cares for 'em. It's your big guns that 
make a tremendous noise — that do a land- 
office business, and astonish the natives. 
That's me ! I'm in for sensation I 

Enter Sharp. 

Sharp. Hallo, Tommy ! What are you so 
excited about ; seems to me you look a little 
mad? 

Tommy. Little mad ! I tell you I hate lit- 
tle things — I'm hig mad, or nothing. Dave 
don't seem to have a soul above buttons. He 
wants me to stoop to little things — I go in for 
hig ones I 

S. Well, I guess he is more than half 
right. You are little enough, and that is 
some comfort. There's room enough for you 
to grow. You never saw a tree shoot out of 
the ground full size ; all your large things are 
made up of little things. Why, our largest 
houses in the town are made up of little 



DIALOGUES. 185 

bricks, and little boards, and little nails. Lit- 
tle things are the seeds of great things ! 

David. Just so ! That's what 1 tell him. 
Who wants to be an overgrown do-nothing, 
like the fat woman at the museum, or the six 
hundred pound queen of an African prince ? 

aS^. You don't want an Elephant, Tommy, 
to draw an apple-cart. What we need, is to 
have the right thing in the right place ; and, 
if little things, well used, will do the work, 
what more do you want ? 

T. And so you want me to settle down 
into nothing but a little cog in a big wheel, do 
you? 

S, Yes, Tommy, if a cog is your place. 
Better a little cog in its place doing its proper 
work, than a big block of wood stopping the 
whole machine. There are too many block- 
heads already. 

D, Just so. You had better give in. Tom- 
my. Take down your ten footer, and be satis- 
fied with a kite suited to your string and 
strength. Why, it would require a rope and 
Samson at the end, to fly your kite. 

T. I hate to give in, that's a fact : but you 
seem to have the best of the argument. Come 
with me, boys, and we'll turn the old ten-footer 
into a dozen kites that will go. 



186 DIALOGUES. 

D. Just so ! Hurrah for the great lit- 
tles — the large mites that can make many 
kites ! I'm with you now. Come, Sharp, 
let's help him now. 

Anniversary Speaker. 



THE ART OP LYING ; OR, '' BARr 

GAINS." 

For three hoys. 

Greorge. John, I saw an advertisement 
down the street, " The best silk neck-ties for 
thirteen cents." Let's go get some; they 
must be a bargain ; and I need a neck-tie 
badly ! 

John. A bargain ! Pudge ! just as all 
such things are bargains. 

Cr. Well, if it isn't, I can soon tell. It 
takes me to make bargains. 

J. Yes, and it takes you and anybody else, 
to get cheated, too, now-a-days. 

Gr. I cheated ? After this, I reckon. 
Come along ; I'll show you. 

They walk along. Here's the store — don't 
be afraid. Come in ! 

Another boy stands at a table — Greorge 
addresses him. Have you silk neckties ? 



DIALOGUES. 187 

Charles. Yes, we have ; excellent ones for 
thirteen cents. {Sands Mm one^ All silk, just 
imported from Prance. 

George examines it^ apparently fringing out a 
little at the end. Says aside to John — 

It is not all silk by any means ; but it is a 
very good thing ; fully worth twenty-five cents, 
any how ; but I'll Jew him down. (^Says 
aloud to storekeeper.') This is not all silk, by 
any means. I'll give you nine cents for it. 

C. Couldn't sell it for that price — paid 
eleven for it. 

Gr. Well, I don't care to buy it now — 
we'll leave it — (makes a move to go.) 

C. I'll tell you what I'll do ; I'll let you 
have it for what it cost me — eleven cents. 

Cr. Well, that will be splitting the differ- 
ence, exactly. I'll take it. (He takes it^ and 
the two hoys walk off in conversation.) 

Gr. Didn't I tell you it took me to make a 
bargain ? 

J. Yes ; but if I had done it, I should 
have felt I had bargained away my honor ; 
and that is worth considerably more to me 
than a neck-tie, or saving four cents. 

Gr. Why, what have I done dishonorable ? 
I told no lies. 

/. I think you did. You made the store- 



188 DIALOGUES. 

keeper think you did not consider it worth 
more than nine cents, when you really thought 
it worth twenty-five, and you pretended you 
did not care to buy the cravat, when you had 
told me you wanted one badly. 

Cr. Pshaw ! that's all in the way of busi- 
ness. Every business man does such things 
as that. Why, I know plenty of members of 
the church who do such things every day, both 
in buying and selling. I tell you, they are 
not lies, they are only business transactions. 

J, What is the chief element in criminal 
falsehood ? 

Gr. An intention to deceive, I suppose ; 
but men needn't he deceived. 

J. That don't make any difference. The 
intention to deceive is there. The lies that are 
acted in the shop, the office, and the counting- 
room, are like the stars of heaven or the sand 
of the sea shore for number. 

Cr. Oh, you're an old fogy. 

J. No ; I am a Bible boy. I believe in 
" putting away all lying," so that we may 
" speak every man truth to his neighbor." 

(r. You would never make a business 
man. You'd have to go to the alms-house. 

J. Well, I would rather do that, than send 
so many people to their graves, as business 



DIALOGUES. 189 

men do by their practical lying. A few 
years since, upon calculation, it was found 
there were not cows enough in and about the 
city of London, to give each resident more 
than a spoonful a day of pure milk ! Who 
can tell what sort of vile stuff was mixed with 
it ? Each drop of water, or mixture of any 
kind, was a lie! 

G-. A mighty pile of them you would raise 
at that rate. 

/. Yes, a pile that will reach fearfully far 
into eternity. 

a. Oh, stop ! 

J, No ; I am not done yet. Our English 
cousins are no worse than we. Our milkmen 
imitate them, and they are imitated by others. 
The grocer sells us ground coffee^ but by the 
famous art of lying, he turns old peas, beans, 
and turnips, into coffee. 

(r. High ! that's the reason I can't get any 
decent coffee to drink now-a-days. 

/. Tea is twice adulterated ; once in 
China, and once in this country. Your can- 
dies, young man, have plenty of poison in 
them. 

Gr. You frighten me ! 

J". I wish I could — into honesty. Indeed 
we can hardly assure ourselves that our daily 



190 DIALOGUES. 

bread, or our needful medicine, will not be the 
death of us. Is it right ? 

G, I can't say that it is. 

J. Well, that kind of lying is helped on, 
by the kind you practised a while ago. Buyers 
depreciate, and will not pay a good price. 
Sellers, to '' fix them," make their goods even 
with the prices given. And so David's asser- 
tion comes pretty nearly true, " All men are 
liars." 

Cr, You will stop my chuckling over '' bar- 
gains," if you keep on. 

/. If you had attended to your Bible, you 
would have stopped long ago. " Lying lips 
are an abomination unto the Lord," and so 
are " divers weights and divers measures." 
But Solomon pictures you out handsomely in 
Proverbs,, '' It is naught, it is naught, saith 
the buyer, but when he is gone his way, then 
he boasteth." 

G-. But you don't think it is wrong to tell 
political lies, do you ? It seems as if we can't 
possibly help that. And a fellow is not to be 
blamed for what he can't help ! 

/. All the reply I have to make to that is, 
'' All liars shall have their part in the lake 
which burneth with fire and brimstone." 

G-. Fire and brimstone ! It is awful ! I 



DIALOGUES, ' 191 

tell you, you won't catch me in any lies after 
this. The greatest fire-eater of the south may 
get to the White House, before I'll prevent it 
by falsehood. I am totally convinced ; thank 
you, John. Good night ! 

S. S. Celebration Book. 



YOUTHFUL ADVOCATES OF TEMPER- 
ANCE. 

Scene — In iront of a country schoolhouse. 

Arthur. I say, Joe, father got back from 
the Legislature last night. Don't you wish 
you had a father in the Legislature ? 

Joe. I dunno. My pa says the Legisla- 
ture's made up of a lot o' thieves. 

A. That's 'cause he can't go himself, ain't 
it? 

J. Guess he could if he should try as hard 
as your pa did. He can do 'most anything. 

A. Except elect himself, Joe. The people 
do the voting. Father's going back to-mor- 
row. He says he must be back to vote for the 
anti-liquor bill, or some such thing. It's to 
keep folks from selling other folks whiskey 
and things. " A prohibitionary measure." I 
b'lieve he calls it. 



192 DIALOGUES. 

J. Yes, I know, I heard pa talking about 
it yesterday. He said if we didn't have some 
such thing all the boys would grow up drunk- 
ards ; but 1 won't, any way. I'll never drink 
whiskey, nor brandy, nor wine, nor any such 
thing. 

A. Good for you, Joe ! Here's my hand 
on that, and let's stick to it. Father says 
the Legislature can't do much to help Tem- 
perance any way. He says they may legislate 
and legislate till doomsday, and the men '11 
die drunkards just the same. It's the tem- 
perance principle that the world wants, he 
says, more than any temperance laivs. I 
heard him talking to mother about it last 
night. We can do more for the community," 
said he, " by helping the young to form habits 
of total abstinence than by making laws all 
our life." 

J. What is '' total abstinence," Arthur ? 

A, Don't you know ? Why, it's letting all 
sorts of liquor alone — not taking a drop. 

J, Then we're Total Abstinence boys, ain't 
we ? 

A. Of course we are. We'll be so^ too, 
until we become Total Abstinence men. 

H. (^coming up^. What's that about Total 
Abstinence men, boys ? Who's fool enough 
to preach Total Abstinence ? 



DIALOGUES. 193 

A. Wiser folks than you preach it, and 
practice it, too. 

IT. Humph! What's the reason a man 
shouldn't drink a little once in a while, if he 
wants to ? 

A, Because of the danger that he may 
soon drink a little twice in a while, and that's 
what makes drunkards. 

IT. Sho ! My father ain't a drunkard, and 
he drinks when he's a mind to. So '11 1, when 
I'm a man. He says Total Abstinence is a 
humbug, and so do I. (^3Ioves aivay), 

A, I tell you, Joe, Harry^s learning bad 
lessons. He thinks his father ain't a drunk- 
ard just because he. don't lie around in the 
corners of the fences, like old Billy Bunn, but 
I'm thinking his father's example is worse 
than old Billy's. You see nobody would 
think of doing as Billy does ; but father says 
it's doing as Harry Gray's father does that 
leads to the other. Father found Mr. Gray 
in the street t'other night too drunk to get 
along, and had to help him home. Harry don't 
know that. Father says he knew old Billy 
twenty years ago, when he was as promising a 
young- man as there was in the county. If 
he'd been a Total Abstinence boy he miglit 
have been Governor now. 



194 DIALOGUES. 

J, Suppose all the boys were Total Absti- 
nence boys, where would the drunkards come 
from ? 

A. There wouldn't he any. 'Cause you 
see Total abstinence boys would be pretty 
certain to be Total abstinence men, and the 
drunkards would all die off before long. 
What a world this world would be, without 
any drunkards in it ? I read in a paper yes- 
terday, that drinking makes 'most all the 
misery and crime there is. 

J. Let's start a temperance society and get 
all the boys into it. 

A, A good idea, Joe. We'll call it the 
Young Abstainers, and we'll have every boy 
become a member. There come half-a-dozen 
of 'em now. We'll go and talk it up. Three 
cheers for the young abstainers! Hip — hip 
— come on. 

(They rush briskly away.) 

Prof. A. A. Hopkins. 



DIALOGUES. 195 

« HONOR THY FATHER AND THY 
MOTHER." 

[Oharactees. — Prank and Harry.] 

Franh, Well, Harry Locke, where are you 
going in such a hurry ? 

Harry, I have got an errand to do at the 
grain store. 

F. Who for ? the governor ? 

H, No, sir. Did you think I was in Gov- 
ernor Claflin's employ ? 

F, What a fellow you are! 1 mean Jede- 
diah. 

S. Jedediah wI:io ? 

F. Locke, uf course, your old man ; did he 
send you ? Seems to me that you are obtuse 
this morp 

H, A I hope I shall continue to be 
obtuse. Prank Jenkins, if it prevents my being 
disrespectful to my father. 

F. Pho ! Where's the harm ? I always call 
my dad, '' old man." 

H, And your mother, " old woman" ? 

F. Yes. Sometimes 1 call her Dorothy 
Jane. 

H, I'm sorry Prank, that you have got into 
this habit ; it's a very foolish, if not a very 
wicked one. 



196 DIALOGUES. 

F. How do you make that out ? 

jBT. Well, in the first place, what do your 
father and mother say when you speak of 
them so ? 

F. Oh, I don't call them so when they are 
around. 

H. Why not ? 

F. Because, it would make 'em mad. 

H, That shows that you think they would 
not approve of it ; so you feel that it is wrong 
to speak so, — am I not right, Prank ? 

F. I don't see why they should care. 

S. How old is your father, Frank ? 

F. Thirty-eight. 

H, And your mother about the same, I 
suppose. Then you see it is not true to call 
them '' old man," and " old woman ; " but the 
chief objection is, that it is disrespectful and 
unkind. 

F. You said that it was wicked. 

H. So I did, and I will tell you why. The 
Bible tells us to " Honor our father and 
mother ; " it is one of the Ten Command- 
ments ; and you know as well as I that it is 
not honoring them when we give them nick- 
names, or treat them as we do playmates of 
our own age. It is a thoughtless habit. Prank, 
and half the boys that use it do not stop to 



DIALOGUES. 197 

think how unkind it is to those who love them 
best. They learn it from rowdy and vulgar 
boys, as they learn other silly slang. 

F, I suppose you are right, Harry. The 
fact is, I never thought anything about it ; but 
now you remind me that I did learn it first 
of Sam Maxwell, and he isn't much of a 
fellow. It is mean to speak disrespectfully 
of a good father and mother, and I am glad 
you said what you have, Harry ; you're a sen- 
sible fellow, and I'll go along with you to the 
grain store. 

H, Thank you, Frank ; I am very glad you 
think I'm right ; some boys would have 
laughed at me, and called me a '' parson," or 
something of that sort, but I am sure that you 
will be glad that you left off the low habit. 
\Exeunt.'\ 

William L. Williams. 



198 DIALOGUES. 



TINTYPES. 

[Characters. — six girls : Sarah, Mary, 
Hannah, Lizzie, PnoeBE, and Anna.] 

Scene. — Sarah and Mary on the stage. 
[Enter Hannah.] 

Sarah. We have been looking for you this 
half hour. Have you just returned from 
town ? 

Hannah. Yes ; I stayed to let the children 
get their tintypes taken. 

Mary. Why didn't they come back with 
you? 

H. They waited for the pictures, and are 
coming next car. How wonderful it is that 
we can get such good little pictures so easily ! 

S. And the price ! One hundred for a 
dollar. I do not wonder so many are taken ! 

M. Neither do I. The last time I was in 
town, I happened to be passing along Main 
Street, by the photograph rooms where those 
frames full of tintypes hang. Sarah was with 
me, and exclaimed, " Oh, what a mass of 
faces ! " as we glanced up at them. I almost 
shuddered. 

E. I know what the feeling was. 



DIALOGUES. 199 

M, There were only a few hundred in each 
frame, I suppose ? 

H, No, and if one is overwhelmed by the 
massing of a few hundred pictures like those, 
what would it be to us if we could see at one 
glance all the faces in the world ? 

M. I have often thought of that, when I 
have seen a large crowd. We should be like 
the Queen of Sheba, when she saw the glory 
of King Solomon. "And there was no more 
spirit in her." Then to -think of all that have 
ever been ! 

S, It is like trying to comprehend the 
length of eternity to think of so many ! 

M. Yes, what a multitude ! 

H, What a lot of comical faces there 
would be among them ! 

8. What a lot of ugly ones ! 

M, What a lot of handsome ones ! 

H. Of grave, serious ones ! 

S. Of benevolent and kind ones ! 

jS". Of brilliant and dull ones !- 

M. Of sorrowful and glad ones ! 

H, Of gentle and meek ones ! 

M, Of savage and cross ones ! 

H. Oh, dear, there would be no end of 
them! 

M. And what a picture-gallery they would 
make ! 



200 DIALOGUES. 

S. But, girls, according to what I have 
read, there is just such a picture-gallery. 
There is a theory, held by some distinguished 
men, that impressions are made of all we do, 
say, and know, and of course of all that we 
are, on the things about us, on the clouds, and 
on the ground, and on everything. 

M, Yes, I have read it, and perhaps in the 
future life we shall see all these pictures. 
Angels will see them, and God wilL 

jET. Perhaps that is God's Book of Remem- 
brance spoken of in the Bible. I think I've 
heard somebody say so. 

M. We get almost lost thinking of these 
things. 

[Enter Phoebe, Anna, and Lizzie, with tintypes.] 

Lizzie, We've got home. Where's mother ? 

Phoebe, We've come. Here are my tin- 
types. [Holds them up,'\ 

Anna, [ With a long breath,'] Such a good 
time ! Where's mother ? 

Lizzie^ Phoebe,, Anna, We've come. 

H. I should think we might know you'd 
come, without any formal announcement of it. 

L, The cars were crowded full ! 

P. So full 1 had to stand up all the way. 

A, Yes, crowded full, and a man in trying 
to go out, stepped right on my foot. 



DIALOGUES. 201 

L. Here, see mj tintypes, \_8hows them.'] 

P. Look at Anna's first. 

A, He put my head up so I think my chin 
sticks out. 

P. See mine, Sarali. 

L, {^Looking hers over.'] One of mine's 
got scratched. 

ili". I tliink they are very good. Anna, I 
don't think that your chin " sticks out," as 
you call it. It is a sweet picture of you. 
\_Kisses her.] 

P. I wish I could take pictures. Don't 
ladies ever learn to take them ? I mean to be 
a tintype-taker. 

S, You take more pictures than you are 
aware of now. 

H. And have more taken of you than you 
know about, if what we have been talking 
about is true. 

P, Well, I should like to know how it is 
done. 

S. Do you know how these pictures were 
taken ? 

A. 1 do. The artist got the tincard ready, 
and put it in the instrument, and then w^e sat 
down and he placed us right. Then he slipped 
up the slide, and in a moment we were took. 
He slipped down the slide, and carried the 
picture into his closet to finish it. 



202 DIALOGUES. 

S, You have left out the most important 
part. 

IT. Your getting took was what Sarah 
meant you should explain. 

A. Oh, I don't know how that was ! Do 
you, Hannah ? 

H. Yes, the tincard was prepared so that 
light would change the chemical on it, and a 
lens placed so as to concentrate the rays of 
light reflecting from your face. This changed 
the chemical, and left your image. He put 
down the slide so as not to let any more light 
on it, and took it into his dark closet to wash 
it over and make the impression stay. 

P. Well, I should like to know how the 
light from my whole face could steer right 
into the little round hole in the box of his 
instrument. I should think it would scatter 
all over the room around me. 

H, It does go all over the room, but light 
never scatters. It goes in direct lines, and 
when these rays get to the lens, that brings 
them together so as to form an image. 

M, If there were arranged instruments all 
around you, the rays of light from your face 
would make an image in every one of them. 
[^During this Lizzie and Anna are looking close- 
ly in each other^s eyes.'] 



DIALOGUES. 203 

L, I can see a tintype of me in each of 
Anna's eyes ! 

S. Pick it out. 

M. Both of you shut your eyes, and tell 
me if you cannot then see a picture of each 
other. [^Shut eyes] . 

Lizzie and Anna together. No, I can't. 

M, What, Anna, can't you tell me just 
how Lizzie looks ? It isn't a minute since you 
saw her. You can tell me almost as well as 
if you were looking at her. 

A, Oh, yes, I can do that ! She has her 
hair combed up, and has a ribbon over her 
net. I can tell just how she looks. 

M. Well, Lizzie, can't you see just how 
Anna looks ? 

L. Yes, I can see her hair, and her eyes, 
her red cheeks, and her lips ; I can think just 
how she smiles with her eyes shut up, and her 
tintypes in her hand. 

A. And I can see your eyes shut up. I 
can see your dress and all. 

M. Well, then, you have pretty good photo- 
graphic instruments in your minds haven't 
you? \_Open eyes,] 

Lizzie and Anna. I never thought of that. 

A. But, Mary, the pictures won't stay. 

M. Oh ! but they do stay as long as you 



204 DIALOGUES. 

remember. Shut your eyes again. \_They do 
so.'] Can't you see it all again ? 

Anna and Lizzie, Yes. 

M. Well, then, the pictures stay. Only as 
we forget do they fade out. 

P. And so everybody that sees us and re- 
members us has got a photograph of us in 
liis brain ! How funny ! 

H. Yes, and work done there is very much 
like the artist's work. The eye has a lens, 
and makes the picture on the retina, which is 
like the tincard. If that were all, the picture 
would disappear when the object was taken 
away, as the photograph would if the artist 
did not take it to the dark closet to finish it. 
But the nerve of the eye takes the picture, 
and carries it into the brain, as an artist to his 
dark closet. It is there made permanent, and 
tliis is memory. 

P. How is it when we forget ? 

M. The picture fades out, as our photo- 
graphs do, when the artist does not finish 
tiiem up well. 

S. So the pictures of us are being taken 
all the time. Yes,, every moment, when we 
are cross, and when we are pleasant-looking ; 
and this shows us the importance of having 
on a pleasant expression, not once in a while, 
but always. 



DIALOGUES. 205 

H. We are always careful to have on a 
neat dress when Ave go to have our pictures 
taken, and we want to put on our best looks. 

A, Yes, the artist tells us, when he is 
ready, ''Now put on your pleasantest expres- 
sion." 

S. A picture made on a card or plate will 
last long after we are dead, and it is dreadful 
to think of leaving a picture that has on it a 
cross or ugly look ; but how much more to 
think we are making hundreds and hundreds 
of pictures on the minds of others that will 
last perhaps forever ! I think this is a reason 
why we should always try to look our best. 

M. Yes, and in order to look our best it is 
necessary to feel our best, for the artist always 
tells us to look natural too. We cannot al- 
ways be sure of looking our best unless we 
have within us good tempers, sweet disposi- 
tions, and pleasant feelings. 

L, I never thought of that before. 

P. 1 went to school feeling cross this 
morning, and I presume I made more than 
twenty pictures on people's minds, looking 
just so. 

i. And I " got mad " at recess, and there 
must be ever so many pictures of me, just as I 
looked, on the minds of the girls ! 



206 DIALOGUES. 

A, Mary Brown made a good one. Her 
mother was too poor to give her money to go 
with us and get her tintype taken ; but I saw 
her, after school this morning, comforting lit- 
tle Freddie Jones, who had fallen down and 
hurt him, and she liad such a pleasant ex- 
pression ! I have a picture of her just as she 
looked, and it is far more beautiful than these 
we had taken. 

P. Well, I never will look cross again ! 

L. I never will get mad again ! 

Sarah a7id Mary, Good resolutions, girls. 

H. Good enough for us older ones to copy, 
I think. Tintypes teach lessons as well as 
lilies of the field. 

LoRiNG's Sunday School Speaker. 



LITTLE THINGS. 

[Characters. — Esther and Paul.] 

Paul, just laying aside a book. 

Paul. How I do wish I was a man ! 

Esther, You will be some day, if you keep 
on growing. 

P. But I want to be a man now, this 
minute. 



DIALOGUES. 207 

E. My! What a hurry you are in ! Why? 

P. Because I want to be something great, 
useful and good, like the men in the book I 
was just reading. 

E, Those men were all little boys once, 
Paul. 

P. But sister, do you think they ever did 
anything very useful when they were little 
boys? 

E, I think it very likely, Paul, because the 
great good they did when tliey became men, 
proves that they had the desire to be useful, 
and everybody can be so if they really desire it. 

P. Not little boys, sister ? 

E, Yes, Paul, little boys and all. 

P. But what can little boys do that is 
really useful ? 

E. They can watch for every opportunity 
of helping others, and whenever they see a 
chance, offer their services. 

P. I don't see what use such a little boy 
as I can be. 

E, I know a little boy whose sister was 
making an apron ; she wanted a few buttons, 
and had not time to go to the store for them. 
This little boy heard her say how sorry she 
was not to finish her apron, and he said, " I 
will go for the buttons ! " 



208 DIALOGUES. 

P. But that was me, to-day. That was 
only a little thing, sister. 

E. There was a tired mother, and a fretful 
baby in a house yesterday, when a little boy 
came into the nursery and said, '' Mother, 
wouldn't it rest you if I drew baby round the 
garden in his little carriage, till he goes to 
sleep ? 

P. But that was me, too ! " 
E. There was a poor Irish servant girl in 
a kitchen last week, whose fire went out just 
at dinner time, and who was afraid her dinner 
would be spoiled. There was a little boy near, 
who said, " I'll run for paper, and split some 
wood, Sallie, for your fire." 

P. Oh, Esther, that was me too ! 
E. Bless me, you don't say so. I wonder 
what's become of a little boy that was round 
here just now, thinking nobody could be useful 
but a full-grown man ? 

P. But are such little tilings as those, 
really doing good, Esther ? 

E. Yes, Paul. It is just these little things 
that are laid in our daily path to test our 
characters. A selfish, careless boy will pass 
them by unheeded, and when a man, will 
neglect great actions, just as he did these little 
opportunities for doing a kindness. But the 



I 



DIALOGUES. 209 

boy who will keep his eyes open, and run after 
every little chance to help another, will be 
very apt to become one of the great, good 
men about whom you were reading. 

P. I will remember that, sister. When- 
ever I want to be a man all in a hurry, 1 will 
look round to see if I can be a useful boy, so 
that when I am a man 1 will have learned how 
to help others. 

E, You will never have far to look, Paul, 
for the opportunities to be useful in little 
things are strewn very thickly in the paths of 
all who search for them. 

P, (after thinking a moment,') I heard 
mother say this morning she wished Tom 
would come to weed the flower beds. When 
Tom was here last he taught me to weed. 
Now if I go weed until dinner-time, mother 
need not send for Tom. That is a little thing 
I can do, is it not, Esther ? 

E. Yes, Paul, and will please mother very 
much. 

P. I will go this very minute ! 

Frost's Dialogues for Young Folks. 



210 DIALOGUES. 

WHY HAVE YOU LEFT THE SABBATH 
SCHOOL. 

[A dialogue for three boys.] 

Henry, Good-evening, William ; glad to 
find you at home this evening. John and 
myself want to have a talk with you. 

William. Glad to see you, boys. I was 
just thinking what a long evening I was to 
have of it. I am too tired to go out myself. 

John. Tired, Will? Why, what makes 
you tired ? Tm not a bit tired, and I have 
been to Sunday -School and twice to church 
to-day. 

H. Yes, William, and that's what John 
and I are going to talk to you about. What's 
the reason you haven't been to Sabbath-School 
these two or three Sundays past ? 

W. Oh, Sunday-School is played out. 

J". Why, William, what makes you talk 
so ? What do you mean ? 

W. Mean ? Why, just this : I've been to 
Sunday-School all I want to. I don't like the 
idea of being marched off Sunday morning at 
just such a time, merely because cliildren 
have always been sent, and of course they 
always must be, — 1 don't believe one in ten 



DIALOGUES. ^ 211 

of our parents could tell why or wherefore. 
The fact is, if the Sunday-School is such a 
good place, why don't our parents show more 
interest in it ? 

J. Stop, William ; I think you are a little 
too fast, and rather unjust. I'm sure many 
of our parents come to see us occasionally. 

TF. Oh, yes, drop in occasionally, and give 
a look around to see that the machinery works 
well ; and if a wheel is stopped for want of 
some one to set it in motion, pass along and 
think it's all right, — 'tis none of their affairs ; 
by-and-by the superintendent will find some 
obliging hand perfectly willing to give it a 
turn, and so they pass out for another quarter. 

H. Well, John, I think William has 
spoken some truth in what he has said ; but I 
see no reason why he should stay away from 
the Sabbath-School. We had better make 
him promise that he will return next Sabbath, 
and try to make things better. 

W. I'll promise to do that when you 
promise to make our parents believe the Sun- 
day-School to be a place worthy of their notice. 
When I get to be a large boy I don't want to 
feel that I'm in a small place designed for 
children merely. 

/. Do you think the Sunday-School a very 
small place, William ? 



212 DIALOGUES. 

W. Why, not exactly ; I always liked to 
go well enough ; but I find when boys get to 
be about so old, they leave the school. I see 
them out here Sunday mornings, standing 
about this corner, and they laugh at me. 
Now I don't believe, if our fathers and 
mothers were in the school, that we should 
ever want to leave it ; for 1 think, if I can go 
where my father does, that I am almost a 
man. 

JI, You speak truly, William, but I see 
no reason why you should get discouraged. 
Why, our pastor might just as well give up 
preaching, because the people don't come to 
cliurch afternoons, and when it rains a bit. 
No, William, we must work all the harder, so 
that our parents may have a better knowledge 
of the school. 

W. How will they get it, if they never 
visit the school ? 

H, Tell them about it ; tease them till they 
do come. Once here, and our work is accom- 
plished, for they cannot help loving our 
school when they become acquainted with it. 
We should not then have parents indifferent 
where their children went to Sabbath-School. 
They would feel that right JierCj and nowhere 
else, should their children be on the Sabbath. 



DIALOGUES. 213 

J". Yes, William, we must make them love 
it as they do their home, and then their chil- 
dren will grow up in it, and from that to the 
church, and take their places as teachers. 
You will not then have to complain about a 
wheel's being stopped, and our pastor will not 
be perplexed with the thought, as the fathers 
fall from their places, that no young men are 
growing up into them. 

W. And our large girls will not have to go 
into other societies to find beaux, will they ? 

H. No, William, not when ive get grown up, 
unless they have to go into other societies to 
find us. 

W. I'll see to it that they shall not seek 
me elsewhere. Depend upon my being at 
Sabbath-School next Sabbath. Good-night, 
boys. 

Henry and John. Good-night, William. 

S. S. Speaker. 



214 DIALOGUES. 

THE NEW MINISTER : OR WHAT OUR 
POLKS SAY. 

Q.^ . Well, Alfred, liow do your folks like 
the new minister ? I see he was around to 
your house yesterday. 

A, Yes, he made out to call, finally. Been 
three months about it, though. Had lots of 
apologies. 

C. So he had at our house. But I s'pose 
he really can't get time to do everything and 
go everywhere. 

A, I'd like to know why ? What's his time 
for ? If he wouldn't spend so much of it for 
his own amusement, he could do more of his 
proper work, my folks say. Every two or 
three weeks he goes oiF down to the Lake and 
loafs all day. 

(7. Deacon Jessup tried to excuse that to 
our folks the other day, by telling them Mr. 
Blank was not very strong, and needed a little 
rest often, but mother told him pretty quick 
that ^he wasn't very strong either, and %he 
staid to home and minded her business. The 
Deacon didn't say much after that. 

JL. I heard him telling father last week 
that if some folks thought Mr. Blank didn't 
make as many calls as he ought to, they should 



DIALOGUES. 215 

remember what kind of sermons he preaches 
Sundays. 

O, What did your father say ? 

A, He said he thought the kind he preached 
sometimes wouldn't do much good — they 
were too fault-finding. '• What do they find 
fault with ? " the Deacon asked, and father 
told him with the people. Anybody 'd think 
we were the worst set that ever lived, says he. 

C. I heard our folks talking the same way. 
Tliey said lie'd no business to pick out any 
one cliurch member and preach against him as 
he did against your father only a little while 
ago when he said what he did about one man's 
being his brother's keeper. 

A. Did they think he meant father then ? 

C. Of course they did. Everybody did. 

A, Father thought so too. I heard him 
telling mother afterward that he didn't know 
as he ivas doing right to let his tavern to a 
liquor seller, but he thought the minister very 
impudent to say what he did about it in 
church. 

H. (coming iip.^ Talking about the new 
minister ? So were our folks when I came 
away. He's too independent to suit here. 
He's too particular who he associates with, 
too. Goes up to Deacon Jessup's every week, 



216 DIALOGUES. 

'n' haint stepped foot in our house but twice. 
Mother says his wife is a regular 'ristocrat 
in her notions, and feels above all the church 
pretty much. She had on a nev/ bonnet Sun- 
day that cost as much as ten dollars, everv 
cent of it. Our folks can't afford to help sup- 
port such extravagance. 

0. Mr. Wilder's widow up at the Centre 
didn't like it at all because he wouldn't preach 
Mr. Wilder's funeral sermon. They came for 
him, but he had some excuse. Our folks say 
a minister ought to be ashamed of himself 
who'll refuse to preach at a funeral. 

H, I know what his excuse was. He went 
to Squire Burt's wedding the same morning. 
He said he couldn't drive ten miles after the 
wedding and get to Mr. Wilder's in time, so 
they got Elder Old. But they won't forget 
it of him. He needn't have gone to the 
wedding. Folks ain't obliged to marry, but 
they've got to be buried- Mother says he 
ought to 've thought of that. 

(7. He don't think of much but his own 
comfort, our folks say. The Philippian Society 
wanted him to deliver an address before tliem 
Saturday evening, but that morning he de- 
clared it was impossible. His sermon was 
only just begun, he said, and he must work 



DIALOGUES. 217 

half the night on it. He said if he'd known 
they wanted such a thing three days before, he 
would have arranged it. Our folks say he's no 
business to go ofl* visiting around and leave 
liis sermon till the last minute. The Phil- 
ippians had counted on Judge Jones to deliver 
the address, and thought the minister 'd do to . 
fall back on ; so they didn't have any. 

H. I tell you what 'tis, boys, when you 
stop to think about it, 'taint so easy a thing to 
be a minister, after all. I don't care wliat 
our folks say ; I believe ministers earn their 
money. They're called all over town, for all 
sorts o' things, an' if they don't answer them 
somebody's mad. It never struck me before, 
but I guess if our minister was in three or 
half-a-dozen pieces, our folks would- use every 
piece at the same time. There 'd be a funeral 
for one, you know ; a wedding for another ; 
some aniversary for another ; and the people 
would be dreadfully dissatisfied on Sunday if 
the littlest piece had staid at home to write 
the sermon. They want good preaching, you 
see. 

C. And I s'pose you think the littlest piece 
wouldn't do very good preaching, eh ? Well, 
I won't be a minister, anyhow. I know too 
well what *' our folks " say all round the bush. 



218 DIALOGUES. 

They're too particular about the new minister, 
by half. Some of 'em would find some fault 
with him if he were Gabriel. 

Prof. A. A. Hopkins. 



EVERY-DAY RELIGION. 

lUnter Chakles and Henry.] 

Charles. Come, Henry, aren't you going to 
Sunday school ? 

Renry. No ; my father said I needn't go 
any more, and you won't see me there again. 

C, Why not, Henry ? 

R, Because I don't want to go. 

O. You used to like it. 

R, I like to hear the teacher read stories 
very well, when they are not too pious ; but I 
don't think much of the rest of his talk. 
What is the good of going ? 

O. What's the good of it ? Don't you 
want to understand your duty ? 

R, Of course I do. 

C, And when you understand it, you want 
to do it, — don't you ? 

H. To be sure I do. 



DIALOGUES. 219 

0, Well, then, the Sunday school will help 
you to understand and to do your duty. 

H. Pooh ! Do you think I don't know my 
duty now ? 

C, That is for you to answer, and not for 
me ! But do you feel as though you always 
did your whole duty ? 

H. Yes, I think I do. 

(7. I am very glad that you understand 
and do your duty so well ; but for my part, I 
don't know how I should get through the week 
if I did not go to Sunday school. 

S, What do you mean by tliat ? 

(7. It gives me strength to resist tempta- 
tion. My teacher tells me of my duty to God 
and man, and he urges me so kindly and so 
earnestly to do my duty, that the lesson goes 
with me through the week as a kind of inspi- 
ration to keep me in the right path. 

H, He tells you not to tell lies, cheat, 
steal, or anything of that sort ; but I know all 
these things without any telling. 

G. So do I ; but the teacher tells me some- 
thing more than merely not to do them. You 
wouldn't steal, Henry ? 

H. Of course I wouldn't. 

(7. Why wouldn't you steal ? 

a. Because I wouldn't. 



220 DIALOGUES. 

C, But why not ? ^ 

H, Why wouldn't I steal ? Well, that's a 
queer question. Why wouldn't I ^teal? 

O, Why wouldn't you ? Please to answer 
me, Henry. 

H. Why, I sliould be sent to jail if I did 
steal. 

(7. Then if it were not for being sent to 
jail you would steal ? 

H, No, I don't know that I would. 

0, You don't know ihd^t you would ? 

H, You are pretty sharp with your cate- 
chism. Let me try a little. Would you steal 
if there were no punishment for it ? 

C. I would not. 

ff. Why not ? 

(7. Because it is wrong to steal ; because 
God through Jesus Christ, commanded me to 
love my neighbor as myself; and I cannot 
love him and steal from him. A boy that 
would not steal, or do any other wrong act, 
because he fears the punishment, isn't much 
better than a heathen. 

H. Oh, don't preach, Charles ! 

0, I don't preach ; I was only answering 
your question. I am afraid, if I had no better 
motive than the fear of punishment to keep 
me from sin and wrong, I should be a worse 
boy than I am. 



DIALOGUES. 221 

n. Don't you believe more folks would 
steal than do now if there was no punishment 
for it ? 

O. I am sure of it. And if more people 
carried their religion into their every-day life, 
less people would steal than do now. And 
what is true of stealing is true of all kinds 
of sin and wrong. 

H. I never understood religion to mean 
such things as that. I always thought it 
meant reading the Bible, saying prayers, and 
singing hymns. 

Q, It means all these things, for religion 
is the love of God and the love of man. If 
we love God, we must delight to read his Book, 
and to commune with him in prayer and song. 
In loving him we love our fellow-beings, for 
they are his children : and, if we love them, 
we must deal justly and kindly with them. 

ZT. Somehow what you have said looks 
right to me, and I think I will go to Sunday 
school with you. I never thought religion 
had anything to do with every-day life. 

(7. Everything ; but it is time to go, and 
we will talk more another time. 

William T. Adams. 



222 DIALOGUES. 

HORSE-SHEDS. ^ 

A Dialogue for three hoys, 

William, Johnny, you can't think what a 
funny thing Tom and I heard last Sunday — 
two horses talking just as regular as a tea- 
party, and quoting Scripture just like a couple 
of deacons. 

John, Two horses talking ? 

Thomas, Yes, Johnny, Deacon Johnson's 
old roan and one of Mr. Mumford's elegant 
span were discussing the horse-shod question, 
about which every one seems to be excited 
every now and then. 

J, Well, Tom, what did they say ? I'd 
like to know what the horses think on that 
question. 

W, They didn't agree, Johnny, any better 
than the men. You know how cold and 
windy and sleety it was last Sunday. Well, 
just after Deacon Johnson liad tucked the 
blanket in under his harness, and stepped into 
church, his horse said just as plainly as a 
horse can say 



T. He said 



W, Well, Tom, if you know it any better 
than I, just tell it. 

T, Excuse me, Bill. I didn't mean to 
take the words out of your mouth. Go ahead. 



DIALOGUES. 223 

W. No, t/ou go ahead. You speak for 
Deacon Johnson's horse, and I'll speak for 
Squire Munfford's horse. 

T. Well, then, the Deacon's horse said : 
" If this isn't enough to try the patience of a 
saint. Here I've fried and fought flies all 
summer, and now I must freeze all winter. 
This wind is comfortable, now isn't it ? And 
these icicles that are forming on my mane and 
fetlocks are highly ornamental. No horse- 
sheds yet. Oh, no ! of course not." 

W. '*• Nay," said Squire Mumford's chest- 
nut, who had just been driven up at a spank- 
ing pace, ''if you are talking horse-sheds, I 
give you to understand that there are none, 
and are to be none." 

T. " And why not, neighbor Chestnut ? " 
said the roan. 

TT. '' Well, because they draw the flies, 
and because they smell so very disagreeable, 
and because the noise of the horses pounding 
on the boards would disturb the congregation." 
/. He did talk like a deacon though, 
didn't he ? 

T. No mistake — - I've heard deacons talk 
just that way ; but my horse was enough for 
him. " It's all very well for you, my fine 
fellow," said the roan, " to talk about flies and 



224 DIALOGUES. 

that sort of thing. Here you'll be driven 
home and put up in a nice warm barn till 
about the time for the benediction. That's 
the way with you all winter. And in sum- 
mer you take the children to ride till service is 
over. Just step out here and freeze or fight 
flies a spell, and you'll get new views on the 
horse-sheds question." 

/. I guess some of the men would get new 
views, too, if you hitched them up to a post 
on the north side of our church for a couple 
of hours, on such a day as last Sunday. But 
you said they quoted Scripture. 

TF". ! We haven't told you all they said. 
The chestnut did quote something about the 
beauty of the sanctuary, which, he rather 
thought, wasn't horse-sheds. 

T. And I can give you the exact words of 
the old roan. " A merciful man is merciful to 
his beast," was his final rejoinder. 

J. That isn't Scripture, Tom. 

T. Ain't it ? 

J. Why no, though there's something in 
Proverbs very much like it : ''A righteous 
man regardeth the life of his beast." 

T, Well, the Bible is on the old roan's 
side, anyhow. 

J. Yes, I admit that. I only wish the men 
were. 



DIALOGUES. 225 



THE LOST PORTE-MONNAIB. 

Richard. See this beautiful porte-monnaie, 
which I found in the road on the way home. 
It's just what I've been wanting. 

John, But it isn't yours, Dick. Somebody 
must have lost it. Is there nothing about by 
which you can tell the owner ? 

i?. No, it was all done up in a paper — 
brand new, you see — nothing in it. 

J, Somebody must have lost it, Dick, and 
it isn't yours, if you have found it, till you 
have tried in vain to find the owner. 

R, Oh, bother, John, how conscientious 
you are. 

/. Well, Dick, how would you feel, if you 
had lost it? What would you wish the one 
who found it to do ? 

Ellen. Perhaps Mr. Thompson lost it. I 
saw him go down the road not long since. 

R. I don't believe it's his. 

J. Well, I'd ask him, and see. 

R, Why can't you let the porte-monnaie 
alone. It's no concern of yours. 

/. But I can't help feeling sorry for the 
person who lost it. It's such a beauty ; and 
perhaps it was a keepsake ; or it may have 



226 DIALOGUES. 

been bought by some girl or boy with money 
that they'd been saving for months. 

R, What's the use of supposing all that. 
It's mine now, and I mean to keep it. What's 
lost is lost ; and finding is keeping, the world 
over. If folks are careless enough to drop 
their things in the road, they mustn't expect 
to see them again. 

E. That isn't quite according to the 
Golden Rule, is it ? 

R. Never mind about the Golden Rule. 
What's that to do with my finding a porte- 
monnaie ? 

E, We'll see, Qpulling out a Testament^ 
and reading,^ " As ye would that men should 
do to you, do ye even so to them." 

R, Well, there's nothing there about porte- 
monnaies. 

J". Isn't there ? Supposing you had lost 
this beautiful porte-monnaie, and Jim Gates 
had found it, would you want him to hunt you 
up ? Wouldn't you say he was a nice, honora- 
ble fellow, if he did, and a mean sneak if he 
didn't? and all because he had done as he 
would be done by. 

E. There goes Mr. Thompson now, look- 
ing on the ground as if he had lost something. 
I mean to call him in. (^Rapping and beckon- 
ing.^ 



DIALOGUES. 227 

Mr. Thompson. Well, little ones, what can 
I do for you ? 

JE. (^embarrassed.') Nothing, sir, — but — 
my brother Dick — 

R. The fact is, Mr. Thompson, I found 
this beautiful porte-monnaie, and was tempted 
to keep it ; but Ellen thought you might liave 
lost it, and John insisted that I ought to see if 
it was yours. 

Mr. T. Well, it is mine, no mistake. I 
bought it as a birth-day present for my poor, 
lame nephew, and felt bad enough, when I got 
home and couldn't find it. Much obliged to 
you, Dick ; and, I say, if you'll meet me at 
Jones's store to-morrow morning, you shall 
take your pick out of his two-bladed knives, as 
a reward for your honesty. 

R. For my honesty, Mr. Thompson ? I 
wasnH honest. I wanted to keep the porte- 
monnaie, and should, if it hadn't been for John 
and Ellen. They ought to have the reward, if 
anybody. 

John and Ellen. We don't need any re- 
ward ; it's reward enough to see Dick doing 
right. 

R. And I say it's reward enough to do 
right. I really feel better than if I had a 
dozen porte-monnaies. There was something 



228 DIALOGUES. 

here, (pointing to his heady thsit said, all the 
while, " Don't keep it." 

Mr. T. Well, one of you must have the 
knife, for I've made up my mind to give it. 

i2. John, let's give it to Ellen. 

/. All right. She deserves it, if ever a 
girl did. 

JE, Well, I suppose I shall have to take it ; 
but I'm sure no girl ever deserves anything 
for doing right. 



LITTLE THINGS. 

(^Unter Charley and Willy. Charley stoops 
to j)icJc up a pin,^ 

Willy. Why what a monkey you are. to 
stop for such a little thing as that. 

Charley. I don't think it's a little thing. 

W. Don't think that pin is a little thing ? 

C. Well — yes — it is a little thing ; but 
suppose I stick it into you. ( With a threaten- 
ing gesture^ 

W. (jumping.^ Look out, there. 

C. ! it isn't such a little thing, after all, 
is it? 

W. Well, when it's bent up, and put into 
your seat at school, it's big enough, I admit ; 



DIALOGUES. 229 

but it isn't of any account — that's what I 
meant. You might buy a paper- of them for 
ten cents. 

C, But supposing you haven't any ten 
cents — supposing you had put all your money 
into the contribution box last Sunday ? 

TF". Why, then go to your mother's pin- 
cushion and help yourself. 

C. Isn't that stealing, Willy ? 

W. Why, no — is it ? 

(7. It looks a little like it. Suppose it was 
a penny, instead of a pin, you didn't think it 
worth while to pick up, and then went to 
mother's purse and helped yourself ? 

W. Why, that would be stealing, of course. 

(7. And I fancy the neglect of these little 
chances to save often leads to little chances to 
steal. 

W. I'm sure, Charley, I never heard any 
one take such a serious view of a poor old pin 
before. It's too little a thing to make such a 
fuss about. 

(7. The pin is a little thing ; but the not 
stopping to pick it up is one step towards 
forming a habit of wastefulness ; and that's 
no little thing, as you may find to your sorrow 
some day. Some one has said that " there are 
no little things with God," and I don't believe 



230 DIALOGUES. 

there are any little things with men. Even 
the slightest event may have most momentous 
consequences. A single glass of wine is a 
very little thing, but it may make a drunkard. 
A single flake of snow is a very little thing, 
but flakes of snow make up the avalanche 
which — 

TF. Hold on, Charley. It aint Fourth of 
July.. Just stop where you are, and I'll pick 
up all the pins I see for a year to come. 

C. All right. You'll be the better for it. 



THE ANNUAL REPORT. 

Superintendent, We have thought it well, 
instead of having one person read a written 
report to-day concerning the condition of the 
school, to have several persons report orally. 
I present you, therefore, with these young re- 
porters, in favor of whom I temporarily abdi- 
cate my office. 

QUnter six little girls. ^ 

Minnie. Well, Carrie, it has been a good 
year for our Sabbath-school, hasn't it ? 
Twelve months ago, we had only 40 officers 
and teachers and 250 scholars. To-day we 
have 60 officers and teachers, and 350 scholars 
— a gain of more than a hundred. 



DIALOGUES. 231 

Carrie. Yes ; and then how regular the 
attendance has been. Our average for the 
year has been 300 — at least 75 more than 
ever before. 

Kate, And haven't we given^ though, this 
year? Four hundred and fifty dollars against 
two hundred and twenty-five last year — an 
average of one dollar and a half for each mem- 
ber of the school. Why, we're really getting 
out of the region of penny contributions. 

0. Yes — thanks to our new system under 
which the Superintendent keeps an account 
with every class, and each teacher with every 
scholar, we really are beginning to give. 

M, And then the prize banner has some- 
tliing to do with it. 

K. 0, of course ; but not half so much as 
some folks think. I don't believe we could 
ever get back to our old-fashioned contri- 
butions of a dollar and a half a Sunday, now 
tliat we've once got a taste of giving, if we 
tried. 

Q, I'm sure I hope not. I mean to give 
just the same — banner or no banner. 

Julia, You mustn't forget our new library, 
girls. Those books were just what we needed 
to make the school perfect. 

Jennie. ! to be sure, 250 volumes this 



232 DIALOGUES. 

yeai' will do ; but the librarian tells us in con- 
fidence (with her hand to her mouthy that we 
really need as many more, and he doesn't see 
where the money is coming from. Perhaps 
these kind friends do. 

Lucy. But it hasn't been all sunshine, 
girls. We have lost one of our best teachers 
— good Mr. Jones ; and then there was little 
Alice Clair, who fell asleep in Jesus' arms — 
let me see — why, there have been five deaths 
in our school this year. 

Julia. But there have been more births, 
Pet, than deaths. At least, twenty-five think 
they have found the Saviour, and, of this num- 
ber, fifteen have united with the church. God 
has been real good to us. 

Superintendent. That he has, little ones. 
And now shan't we be good to him for the 
year to come ? All those who mean to deal 
kindly and truly with Jesus for the year to 
come, will please rise. What ! not one ? 
Ah ! there they come. Well, darlings, if you 
only keep that promise, we shall have a 
great deal better report to make next year, 
than this. 



DIALOGUES. 233 

THE PRIZE BANNER. 

Supt, A, I don't think much of these 
prize-banners in your Sunday-school, brother 
B. 

Supt. B. Why not, neighbor A. They've 
brought our average attendance up from 250 
to 350 ; and our contributions from $4.00 to 
flO.OO a Sunday. Tliey have some incidental 
advantages, at any rate. 

Supt, A, I've no doubt of it ; but I don't 
think they're Scriptural, and then they tend 
to foster pride and ill-will. 

Supt, B. Well, I'll call up three or four of 
my little ones, and see what they can say in 
favor of the banner system. 

QUnter Willie, Maggie, Ophie, and Lillie.^ 

Supt. B, Well, Willie, you belong to the 
^^ banner-class in coming." What have you to 
say for yourself ? 

Willie. Only this : that I come every Sun- 
day, rain or shine ; always have, and always 
mean to — banner or no banner. 

Supt. A. The banner, then, makes no 
difference ? 

W. Why no, sir. We didn't take the 
banner. The banner took us. 



234 DIALOGUES. 

Supt. B. Maggie, you belong to the " ban- 
ner-class in giving." Tell us all about it. 

Maggie, Well, there's nothing to tell, only 
this: We've been bringing in all the pennies 
we could lay hold of, ever since we entered 
the school, and, last quarter, folks found it 
out. 

Supt. A, And you'd give just as much 
without any hopes of a banner ? 

Jf. I guess we would, while Mrs. S. is our 
teacher. She's all give. 

Suft, B, Well, Ophie, what justification 
can you offer for the '' banner-class in behav- 
ing ? 

Ophie, Only this : that we didn't know 
there was any banner for behaving, till it was 
hung up over our class. Of course we'd been 
behaving well for the quarter preceding. We 
always do. And we shan't behave any the 
worse for the quarter to come, because there's 
a banner to be awarded to the best class in 
THE SCHOOL. Thosc that want irregular attend- 
ance, meagre contributions, and disorderly 
classes, mustn't offer banners for their oppo- 
sites. 

Supt, A, Really, Miss Ophie, you are a 
second Anna Dickinson. I've no questions to 
ask you. But I do wish some one would tell 



DIALOGUES. 235 

me whether there is any Scriptural precept or 
precedent for this prize system. 

Supt. B, Lillie, will you undertake to sat- 
isfy my good brother ? 

Lillie. Yes, sir ; here's a Testament, Mr. 
A. Since we've adopted the prize system, 
we've had money enough to buy all the Testa- 
ments we needed. 

Supt, A, What shall I do with it, Lillie ? 

L. Take it home. If your school has not 
adopted the prize system, I've no doubt you 
need it. But, just now, turn to 2 Oor. 8 : 1-4, 
and read. 

Supt. A. reads, 

L, Read again from the same epistle, 
chapter nine, verses one and two. 

Supt. A, reads. 

L. Doesn't that look, Mr. A., as if Paul 
was a little indifferent to the possibility of ex- 
citing pride and ill-will, if he could only get 
out of the churches a good round contribution ? 

Supt. A. Well, yes, Lillie, I must say it 
does. 

L. Isn't Paul's system the prize system in 
essence ? 

Supt. A. It looks a little like it, Lillie. 

Supt. B. So you won't go away and throw 
stones at our Sunday-school, brother A ? 



236 DIALOGUES. 

Supt. A, Not a bit of it. I shall go away 
with a very strong suspicion that the wisest, 
best and most Scriptural thing we can do, is to 
imitate your example. 

SupL B. All right. 

School, All right. 

Supt. A. Yes, I see you are : all right. 



TOO MUCH GIVING. 

(^For two young men^ a hoy^ ayid three girls.) 

Mr. Penurious. Give ! Give ! Give ! I de- 
clare it's always give. A dollar for this thing 
to-day, and five dollars to that thing to-morrow. 
Why, a man would want to be made of money, 
to belong to this church. 

Charley. But you receive, as well as give, 
don't you, Mr. P. ? 

Mr. P. Not a bit of it. Nobody ever gave 
me anything, that I can remember. I've 
earned all that I own myself, and I mean to 
keep it. You needn't hope to get anything 
out of me for your Sunday-school library. I 
don't believe in Sunday-school libraries. They 
don't have the right kind of books ; and, be- 
sides, they cost money. 



DIALOGUES. 237 

Mary. Nobody ever gave you anything, 
Mr. P. ? How did you come by life and health 
and the ability to acquire a fortune ? Did you 
earn those yourself ? 

Ellen. Yes, Mr. P. You and the Bible 
don't agree very well. That says : '' Freely 
ye have received, freely give." 

Jenny. And aren't we all giving to you 
every day of our lives ? Here we're giving 
you a first rate opportunity to give ! 

Mr. P. Ye-es — thank you for nothing. 
I wish you'd give me a greenback now and 
then, or something that cost something, and is 
worth something. 

Mary. And salvation cost nothing, and is 
worth nothing, I suppose. Oh ! Mr. P., think 
what it cost the Father to save a ruined world 
— think what salvation means ! 

C. I'll tell you what it means, Mr. P. ; it 
means Give. As Christ gave himself for us, 
so we must give ourselves for others, or we are 
none of his. Well, we can't spend much time 
on you. Good morning. {^Exit Charley.^ Ellen^ 
Mary and Jenny. ^ 

Mr. P. Salvation means giving ! Who 
ever heard such a thing? The young folks 
had no such notions when I was a boy. QExit.} 

Enter, from different sides of the platform, Uncle Bountiful, 
Charley, Ellen and Mary. 



238 DIALOGUES. 

(7.5 E. and M, Good morning, Uncle 
Bountiful. 

Uncle B, Good morning, cliildren. Round 
collecting for the new library, I'll venture to 
say. Well, I'm ready for you. Will this do 
for me ? (Pulling out a ten-dollar hill.^ 

M, 0, Uncle Bountiful ! we didn't think 
of your giving more than five dollars. 

Uncle B, Didn't you? Well now, there's 
a good one. I do like to take folks by sur- 
prise. 

E, Uncle Bountiful, did you ever think 
that there was " too much giving ? 

Uncle B. "- Too much giving ! " God 
bless you, child, I don't know what you mean. 
Does God give us too much fresh air and sun- 
shine ? Does he give more of his tender, all- 
embracing love than we need? Is that what 
you mean ? 

M. ! no, Uncle Bountiful. Ellen means 
to ask if there isn't too much giving among 
Clu^istians. I suspect I know what put it into 
her head. 

Uncle B, So do I, darling. It was the 
devil. Resist him, Nellie, and he'll flee from 
you. 

(7. He did^ uncle. 

M. For shame, Charley. I really think 
Mr. Penurious is a good man. 



DIALOGUES. 239 

Uncle B. 0, ho ! so you've been afoul of 
Mr. Penurious. Well, pet, 2 think he's a good 
man, too. He's mighty sound in the doctrines, 
and there's nobody speaks and prays better 
than he. But he won't give. That's his weak- 
ness. My weakness is that I can't speak ten 
words together; but I'm willing to give ten 
dollars together — so we're square. 

^. And you seem to think it a pleasure 
to give, uncle. 

Uncle B, Of course I do. Isn't that 
Scriptural ? Better to give than to receive, 
you know. I've always found it so. But 
good-bye, children. I must be going. QJExit.^ 

0. Now there goes what I call a man. 
God bless him, girls ; don't you say so ? 

Uncle B, (jpopping his head in.^ If you are 

a little short on that subscription, don't mind 

calling on me again. , 

J. H. G. 



240 DIALOGUES. 



THE SIGNIPICANCE OP CHRISTMAS. 

Gharles, Well, boys, to-morrow is Christ- 
mas Day. Isn't that bully ? 

Edwin, " Bully ? " Charles, that seems 
to me the very last epithet to apply to Christ- 
mas Day ; and, indeed, an adjective that you'd 
better dismiss from your vocabulary altogether. 

James, I wonder what Charles's conception 
of Christmas Day is. 

0, Well, you needn't wonder long. It's a 
day when school don't keep, and we have a 
bang up good dinner — a day when skates are 
given to those fellows that haven't got them, 
and the chances are more than even that 
they'll have an opportunity to try them before 
night. 

E. More slang, Charley. 

J, And such a conception of Christmas! 
Did you ever go to church on Christmas Day, 
Charles ? 

(7. Go to church? Not for Joseph. Not 
any in mine, if you please. 

E, I do wish you wouldn't use such low 
expressions, Cliarley. 

J. And I do wish you'd go to church with 
me to-morrow. 



DIALOGUES. 241 

(7. Me go to church ? Why, it's as much 
as I can do to get there Sundays. But why 
should you want me to go to church Christmas 
day ? 

E, Because Christmas Day commemorates 
the birth of our Saviour. It isn't certain that 
He was born on that day ; but the church has 
for centuries observed that day as the anni- 
versary of His birth. 

J". Yes, and the holiday and the gift-mak- 
ing of which you think so much, and the good 
dinner, were intended simply as expressions 
of joy for the birth of a Saviour. 

0. Is that so ? I never saw it in that light 
before — that isn't slang, is it ? 

E. Hardly ; and if you don't give us slang 
every time you open your lips, you shall have 
due credit for it. 

(7. But really, boys, I'm in earnest now. 
I never thought much about Christmas, any 
way. It seemed to me to be thrown into the 
calendar as a sort of make-weight for the 
Fourth of July. Just about six months apart, 
you know. Two holidays to kind of ballast 
the year. 

J". But Christmas has a serious aspect, 
Charley. It commemorates the fact that the 
Son of God took upon him our human nature. 



242 DIALOGUES. 

in order that he might die for man. It ought 
to be observed not with feasting and junketting, 
but in a reasonable, Christian way. 

Q, I see it now, and I verily believe I'll go 
to church to-morrow. It looks now as if it 
was going to snow —-so there'll be no skating. 
Yes, boys, I'll go, skating or no skating — you 
needn't look so glum over it. There's my 
hand on it. ^Shaking hands with both of them.') 



THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. 

Tohn, I wouldn't do it, Ned, if I were you. 

Mary. No, nor I, either, Edward. 

Edwardj. Why not ? What harm is there 
in it, I'd like to know ? 

J". Not much in the thing itself — perhaps 
not any ; but then think of the force of exam- 
ple. To go to the theatre might diO you no 
injury — • the mere going to the theatre, if you 
kept aloof from the surroundings of the theatre, 
probably wouldn't — but if you go, others will 
plead your example, and go too. 

M. And thougli Christian principles may 
enable you to resist the temptations which 
surround the theatre, they may fall into Satan's 
traps. 



DIALOGUES. 243 

Jane. And why is it, I wonder, that 
these temptations cluster so thickly about the 
theatre ? Like attracts like, they used to tell 
me. 

E. So it is because of the influence of my 
example that you don't want me to go to the 
theatre. 

J, Mainly that — though we have no little 
anxiety on your own account. Going once, it 
will naturally be easier for you to go again. 
Of course in going, you must become habit- 
uated to contact with the drunkard and the 
prostitute ; what the result may be, we cannot 
tell. 

E. You need have no fears on my account. 
I despise everything of that sort. 

M, We know you do, and we want you to 
keep on despising it. 

E. But about this force of example. My 
theory is, that every tub should stand on its 
own bottom. If Tom Jones goes to the 
theatre because I do, and consequently goes to 
perdition, Tom Jones is to blame for it, not I. 
He ought to have resisted temptation. 

Jane. I don't know about that, brother — 
or, rather, I do know about it. I know that 
you are accountable to God and man for all 
the results that flow from your example. 



244 DIALOGUES. 

E. Why sister, that's rather harsh doctrine. 

M. Harsh, but true, Cousin Edward. 
Search God's word, and see if it isn't so ; or 
apply common sense to the question. 

E. Well, I'll think of what you say ; but I 
do so want to see Joe Jefferson in Rip Van 
Winkle. 

J. So do we ; but we can forego the pleas- 
ure for Jesus' sake. 

Jane, Yes, because we realize that when 
we sneer at the force of example, we are fol- 
lowing the example of Cain, when he asked: 
" Am I my brother's keeper ? " 



NO GENTLEMAN UNLESS A CHRISTIAN. 

William, Hullo ! here comes Mr. Turvey- 
drop. 

James, That's so. Let's have some fun 
with him. 

Enter Clarence, dressed in the height of the fashion, with cane , 
kid gloves, etc. etc. 

Clarence. Young gentlemen, can you in- 
form me where Miss Araminta Glover resides ? 

W, Of course I can. 

J. Me, too. 

Q, (after quite a pause,^ Well, why don't 
you then ? 



DIALOGUES. 245 

/. 0! that's what you're waiting for. 
Well, we said we could, we didn't say we 
would. 

W. Let's tell him, Jim. 

J. All right ; go ahead. I'll help you. 

TF. Do you see that elm tree ? 

0, Yes, sir. 

W. Well, when you come to that tree 
(^Pauses,^ 

O. ^Impatiently} Well, what then ? 

TF". Why, keep right on, as if you hadn't 
seen it. It won't bite you. 

/. And by'me bye, turn to your right — 

W. And then to your left — 

J. Till you meet a small boy — 

TF. Thumbing his nose — 

/. This way. 

0, (^Raising his cam to strike Tames,} 
Caitiffs ! 

(Enter Mr. Richardson.) 

Mr, B. Why, boys, what's up ? 

0, (Lowering his cane.} Sir, these fellows 
have insulted me, simply because I dress and 
demean myself like a gentleman. 

TF. No, 'tis because you're a stuck-up up- 
start. 

J". Yes, that's what's the matter. 

Mr, B, Hold on, boys. I fancy, James 



246 DIALOGUES. 

and William, that you're likely enough to 
have been rude to Clarence. 

J. But he's such a prig, sir. Not a bit of 
down-right manliness in him. Couldn't take 
the easiest fly that ever was batted. 

W. All fuss and feathers ; and so proud of 
his fine clothes. Why, keep him out of a 
tailor's shop for a year, and there's nothing 
left of him. 

Mr. R* You hear what these boys say, 
Clarence. It doesn't excuse their rude con- 
duct ; but 1 confess there's some truth in it. 

(7. I only try to be a gentleman, sir. 
That's why all the boys are down on ma. 

Mr, R, And what is it to be a gentleman, 
Clarence ? 

0, Well, to wear fashionable clothes, and 
be courteous to the ladies, and — and — 

Mr. R. Drink a glass of wine, and smoke 
a cigar now and then. 

0. Well, yes, sir. Most gentlemen do 
that. 

Mr, Now your idea of being a gentleman 
doesn't coincide with mine, at all, Clarence. 
My theory is, that no one can be a gentleman 
who isn't also a Christian. 

0, Well, that's a new idea, I thought 
most gentlemen were •— - 



DIALOGUES, 247 

Mr, It. Speak it right out, Clarence. 

0, Well, I thought they were rather rough 
on religion, 

Mr, R, Your gentlemen are, no doubt ; 
but my gentleman is true and faithful to God, 
and therefore courteous to all God's children. 
He may not wear fine clothes, or sport kid 
gloves ; but he will be prompt to do any man 
a kindness, and be patient and gentle under 
undeserved reproach. No flogging and thresh- 
ing, when a boy is rude to him. He loves 
God, and so he loves God's creatures. Any 
other kind of gentlemanliness than this, is 
mere veneering. This is the solid wood. 

O, Why, Mr. Richardson, I never heard 
anybody talk so before. 

Mr, R, I'm sorry for it, for 'tis God's 
truth, and a truth that you need to think 
about. You will think about it, won't you ? 

0, Yes, sir. 

Mr. R, And you'll shake hands with these 
little reprobates who were thumbing their 
noses at you just now. I saw bare-legged 
Bill there running himself almost dead, to 
catch widow Jones' cow, and I thought then 
that he had the making of a gentleman iu 
him. 

Q, Well, I'll shake hands with him ; but 
as for Jim — 



248 DIALOGUES. 

J, I won't thumb my nose at you any 
more, Clarence. 

C, Well, I'll shake hands with you, too, 
Jim ; and let's all try to be true gentlemen 
after Mr. Richardson's pattern. 

TF". and J. Agreed. 



SHALL WE HAVE A LIBRARY? 

Mr. A, The question is : Shall we have a 
library ? 

All the hoys. We want a library. 

All the girls. We want a library. 

Mr. A. There are two very strong argu- 
ments. The wants of the little ones mustn't 
be disregarded. Still, it is a question whether 
what we want is what we need. 

Mr. B. I say no library. It costs one dol- 
lar a year for every scholar in the school ; and 
the same money expended in other directions 
would make the school more prosperous, and 
suit the scholars equally well. 

Mr. O. I say no library. It costs more 
than it comes to. We have to buy very expen- 
sive books, and books that are not fit for 
Sunday reading, in order to make our library 
attractive. 



DIALOGUES. 249 

Mr. jD. That's so. I haven't had a scholar 
in ten years, that would even look at " Ed- 
wards on the Affections." 

Mr, A, Of course not. Oliver Optic, with 
his Striving and Thriving, Planking and 
Planing, has taken the wind quite out of 
Edwards's sails. 

Mr. Q. But are Oliver Optic's books quite 
the thing for a Sunday-School library ? The 
moral, when you get to it, is all right ; but, 
meanwhile, half the boys in your parish have 
run away to sea. 

Mr. B. Rather strong, brother C. ; but 
true in the main. ' All I claim is, that the 
same money that a library cost expended in 
papers and picnics, would yield better returns. 

Mr. Q. And I still insist on the difficulty 
of finding suitable books for a library, and, at 
the same time, books that the scholars will 
read. If anybody should *give me to-day 
$500.00 to spend for our library, I shouldn't 
know what to do with it. 

Mr. A. ril tell you what to do with it, 
brother C. Do away with your Sunday- 
School Library, and organize a Parish Library, 
open every Saturday evening from six to 
eight. Don't try to make that library re- 
ligious. Make it moral and instructive. Sell 



250 DIALOGUES. 

tickets to it for a dollar a year, and give 
tickets as prizes for regularity of attendance 
and good deportment in the Sunday-School. 

Mr. (7. That's a good idea, brother A. It 
wouldn't cost so much as a Sunday-School 
Library, would it ? 

Mr, A, Not near. The books would be 
charged to individuals, and returned by them. 
There would be fewer losses, and less wear 
and tear. 

Mr, B. And then our half dozen librarians 
could reinforce the teaching department on 
Sundays, and we could go home when we got 
through our lessons, instead of v/aiting for the 
distribution of books to be completed. 

Mr. A, Of course. There are many ad- 
vantages in the plan which I advocate. I'm 
sure I'd rather put standard works in history, 
biography, and science into the hands of the 
children, than a good deal of the •' religious 
reading " they get out of our Sunday-School. 

Mr. Q, So would I ; and I'm not sure but 
standard works of fiction would be less hurtful 
than many of the religious novels of the 
period. 

Mr, B, It just occurs to me that a good 
many families buy books of current interest 
which they are done with after a single read* 



DIALOGQES. 251 

ing, and which might go into a library of this 
sort. There's Mrs. Stowe's " Pink and White 
Tyranny " now — our folks have all been read- 
ing it. It isn't quite the thing for a Sunday- 
School Library ; but in a Parish Library, it 
wouldn't be out of place. I'll turn that in. 

Mr, A. All right ; and a good many fami- 
lies might turn in similar books ; but, after all, 
I should want to see in the Parish Library a 
goodly show of more substantial works — 
books of reference, such as the teachers and 
scholars would like to consult ; and that sort 
of thing. 

Mr, B. Of course. We must manage to 
suit all tastes. But suppose we think about 
this matter a while, and bring it up aga'in ? 

School. That's a good idea. Be sure you're 
right, and then go ahead. 



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